


Kinktober 2019

by Astronoddingoff



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Angst, Aphrodisiacs, Awkward Sexual Situations, Begging, Body Modification, Bodyswap, Clothing Theft, Coaching, Collars, Cunnilingus, Denial, Desk Sex, Drinking Games, Drunk Sex, Drunkenness, F/F, F/M, Face Sitting, Femdom, Frustration, Hate sex (kind of), Jealousy, Kinktober, Laughter During Sex, Light Bondage, M/M, Medical Play, Multi, Open Relationships, Overstimulation, Painplay, Pining, Power Bottom, Public Sex, Sex Pollen, Sex Toys, Shower Sex, Size Difference, Suspension, Swallowing, bickering as foreplay, implied threesome, polyamory (mentioned), sex in zero g, silliness, softdom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2020-11-10 16:34:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 48,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20854868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astronoddingoff/pseuds/Astronoddingoff
Summary: Kinktober is here! I'll be posting (hopefully) 31 days of kinks focused on Discovery (but also possibly other Star Trek characters. Tags will update





	1. Una/Chris- Sexual Frustration

She’s gonna die.

She really is.

While Chris is over chatting up Admirals and making diplomacy look back in fashion, she’s gonna die. 

I mean  _ Come On. _

The brass had decided to have this event outdoors, which  _ is _ nice. Too rare does she get the opportunity to stand under the sun, even simulated.

It’s so hot and light, mostly everyone is in the least amount of clothes. Most are in the skirt uniform..

Including her. Including Chris.

He’s over there with all that  _ leg _ on plain display and disheveled hair and bright eyed. And that would be bad enough, oh it would. But he’s lost the jacket too. Skin tight undershirt, bare legs, and that grin as he schmoozes with the brass-

Chris looks back over at her. And fucking  _ winks. _ Raises his glass in her direction before tilting his head back all sensually and pushing his lips to the rim of the glass and taking a long drink. Fuck, he  _ knows _ her eyes are on him. He knows  _ everyone’s _ eyes are on him and that it’s getting on her nerves and she can’t do a damn thing about it.

A thought pops into her mind.

_ ‘Wait, maybe I can’ _

\---

When Chris saw Una give him the ‘Oh I’m gonna  _ murder you’ _ look, he had flashed her a grin and considered it a job well done. If he’s gonna be stuck here to schmooze with Admiralty he may as well have some fun. When she leaves his vision, he’s a bit disappointed to be honest. He never gets to break out the skirt uniform, never gets to tease her quite like this.

When she suddenly appears at his side with two fresh glasses of champaign, grinning all too pleased, he knows he’s in trouble.

“Champaign?” She offers with one hand. Her smile says ‘happy and pleasant’ to all the other Admirals, but her eyes say ‘you’re in for it’. He takes the drink. 

“Sorry to intrude, everyone. I just wanted to swing by, give my Captain another glass,” she says jokingly, wrapping a hand briefly around his waist and tugs him in for a teasing half hug to her side. Various members of the group laugh, but he’s too distracted to really see who. Una’s pushed something into his pocket. He looks over to her. She sips her drink.

He slips his hand into his pocket, digs his hand until he feels something. It’s fabric, a strange texture, like lace? Almost like-

“Anyway, I’ll let you all get back to discussing Captainly and Admiral-y things” she drolls sarcastically, gaining another round of chuckles. His brain is still stalling out. She looks to him finally: Grins,  _ winks, _ and takes a long sip from her drink. Her eyes bore into his. His fingers are still on the underwear in his pocket. Underwear. _ Her underwear. _ Underwear that he’s sure if he feels around more, he’ll find damp.

_ ‘Una you’re in a skirt, that’s dangerous. That’s scandalous. That’s fucking Obscene-’ _

_ ‘And fucking hot as shit’ _

She pulls away, achingly. Slides his hand across his ass as she does so, the tease. 

“I’ll be waiting for you wherever- I mean,  _ whenever _ you want to go, Captain” Another grin, bedroom eyes. She saunters away, and god damn him it takes everything in him to not sprint after her and grab her hand and drag her back to their room as fast as they can run. 

“Hell of a First Officer you got there, Chris” Admiral Lekans remarks. He feels himself grin even as he’s mentally cursing her name.

“You’re telling me, Admiral”

  
  



	2. Tilly/Michael- Painplay

Tilly isn’t stupid, contrary to what some believe.

She can read people like open books, can see the secrets in the way they react (or carefully  _ don’t _ react) to careful prodding and well timed questions. She knows when they’ve got something they want to say, weighing on their tongues like a stone and yet they can’t bring themselves to drop it. They think she’ll tell, think that she’s nothing but a blubbering mess of a woman.

Funny how that works. How she can keep any secret but her own. 

She notices, she files away for future reference, she keeps secrets. It’s how she knows best to show she cares. And when she and Michael began their relationship that talent of hers proved ore and more useful.

Michael kissed her sweetly, softly. Too softly. When they sat together on someones bed and kissed for ages, she always clambered into Tilly’s lap, but not before clawing at her hips like she wanted it the other way around. When Tilly pushed kisses down her jaw and ear for the first time, Michael inhaled, only to not react much further to her kisses. At first, Tilly assumed they were going too fast, or maybe Michael was sensitive, but that… that wasn’t  _ her. _ That wasn’t  _ her _ Michael. 

So, she experiments.

She kissed her with a bit more force one morning, and it earned her a smile against her lips. Pulled her in rough one night grabbed her hips with a bit more force than necessary and Michael hummed against her lips and pushed closer and closer. One day on their way to lunch, she makes an impulsive decision: Grabs Michael and shoves them both into the nearest empty room, shoves her up into a wall, pins her hands as she kisses her hard. And oh, that’s when Michael gives herself away. When she  _ keens _ against her, presses her whole body up into Tilly’s and strains against her hands in a way not conducive to escape so much as it is a test of the hold. 

Then, she knows for certain why Michael had been so unendingly soft with her. Because Michael could never say out loud how hard she wanted it. And Tilly is gonna do her damndest to make sure she doesn’t have to.

They have safewords and check ins, sure. Always ask before trying something new, but Tilly makes sure she broaches it first so Michael doesn’t have to until she wants to. She ties Michael up with care, and always makes sure to keep a rope cutter on hand. Takes care to bite and suck and scratch Michael up where her uniform will cover, but always leaves a mark right where the collar hits so Michael remembers who she belongs to. She leaves claw marks on her thighs, hickies on those sensitive little points on her wrists that make Michael whimper and blush, love bites anywhere she can reach. 

It’s only after the jump to the future that someone seems to have noticed, or at the very least, decides to question it. 

Tilly’s doing inventory in Engineering when she’s approached by yet another person who thinks she’s unreadable but really isn’t. The Emperor saunters to her like a cat toting recently killed prey and bluntly asks with a raised eyebrow,

“I see you’re relationship with Michael plays with more… shall we say,  _ interesting _ toys”

She keeps her composure. No use denying the truth, even if Michael won’t like it. Hell, chances are Georgiou has already made a comment to her partner anyways. 

“I thought it was you who said this universe was boring,  _ Emperor” _ she offers back as casually as she can. “Are you unhappy that we’re doing something fun and you aren’t?” Give her no information, play hard to get, give just a bit of attitude back. The Emperor isn’t all that hard to beat, now that Tilly knows what rules she plays by.

Georgiou only smiles back at her, so sharp that Tilly wonders if Georgiou forgets she doesn’t actually have fangs to bear. “You don’t know  _ what _ I do, Ensign” She leans back against a crate, picks up some random equipment and studies it as she continues.

“In my universe, such things weren’t nearly as ridiculous as they are here. Needs are needs, fun is fun. No need to do so behind secret closed doors.” Georgiou pauses. That gets Tilly’s attention. Georgiou  _ never _ pauses unless it’s for dramatic effect or to get under someone’s skin. This is neither of those, Tilly can  _ feel _ it.

“My Michael spoke of an incident, once. One of her more unworthy consorts was given the simple task of indulging her in the wonders of wax -the simplest of tasks,  _ really,- _ and they couldn’t even do  _ that _ right.” She huffs. “Their carelessness left my daughter with a long burn scar on her chest for the rest of her life”

Tilly takes a moment to process the words. Georgiou looks up from the machine in her hands to bore into her skull. 

“This Michael will never ask you to do that to her” she says plainly. Tilly agrees, so she nods. “If you bring it up, she will say yes. And you will  _ not _ make the same mistake as that consort, correct?” Georgiou may not have fangs, but Tilly knows they are bared nonetheless. Tilly nods again.

“No Ma’am.” A pause. “I don’t even think we have candles”

Georgiou smiles at her, and oh, that’s honestly more terrifying that when she glares at her. 

“There are some in storage closet B-24 on the second deck” She remarks casually as she picks herself up off the crate. The machine she was holding gets rested on it in her place. “If you  _ do _ make the same mistake as that consort, I will know, and I will have to seek retribution, Tilly” She says cheerfully as she saunters back out of engineering.

Tilly goes over the conversation a few times. Glances over at the machine Georgiou was handling. A piece of it is missing. Fuck. She didn’t even notice Georgiou tampering with it.She takes a breath. Wonders at how Georgiou knows about a stash of candles in some random supply closet. Wonders what the scar on Mirror Michael’s chest might have looked like. 

Wonders what Michael would say if Tilly wandered into their room tonight with a candle and a proposition.

_ ‘I think’  _ Tilly decides, logs the last of the crate she’s on before setting the padd down. Makes her way to the door as casually as she can manage.  _ ‘That I wanna find that out’ _

Tilly is not a stupid woman. She can take a not so subtle hint, even if the source is unconventional.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello once again! Time for some kinky disaster bisexuals! I'm using This kinktober prompt list which was shown to me by the wonderful Killermanatee! Please check out their kinktober fillets as well and give them love! Leave a kudos or comment if you enjoyed!


	3. (Cornwell/Georgiou) Shower/Bath

She knew she was screwed the second she saw the Emperor’s face across the table when the meeting adjourned.

They don’t have time for this. Leland has been taken over by Control, the whole fate of the universe is at stake, let alone the whole mess with Burnham’s mom and the wormhole today, and all the other  _ fucking bullshit- _

“Would you stop thinking so loudly?” The Emperor croons in her ear. The temperature of the water cascading over her grows even hotter and she hisses, scratches at Not-HerPippa’s arms in retaliation.

“Now now, Kitty Kat-” 

“Don’t call me that” Kat bites back at her. Georgiou’s lips curl where they’re pressed behind her ear. A punishing twist of the fingers inside her, and Kat’s undermined by her own struggle to hold back a noise at how good it is.

“You’re in my bed, Admiral” The Emperor croons. “Well, my shower, but soon enough, my bed as well” Another twist of fingers, a firm press of a thumb rolling circles into her clit. “You’re in my bed, you’re around my fingers, under my lips,” A sucking bite into the spot where her pulse point and jaw meet that makes Kat’s thighs tremble. “I shall call you what I wish, and you’ll scream my name for it all the same”. Kat, for once blessing the fact that her ego is bigger than her libido, manages a sneer.

“I’m not screaming for you anytime soon, babe. You’re gonna have to try a hell of a lot harder to earn that one from just fingering me in the shower”

She thinks for a brief moment that she won, or that the Emperor wearing one of her closest friends faces is gonna pull her hand free and simply stalk out of the shower for ruining her fun. But instead, she pulls her head back just enough for Kat to see her face, and oh, that’s  _ worse. _

Georgiou crowds her even closer to the shower wall. Hair curling back up in the moisture, eyes narrowed and downright insidious grin and all, the Emperor looks like a predator that’s finally caught her prey. And  _ fuck  _ if that doesn’t do a whole manner of things to Kat for all the right and wrong reasons.

“Oh my dear Admiral,” Georgiou purrs, doubling down on the efforts of her hand between Kats thighs. Leaves scratches down her rips with her other hand. “You think we stop here? When you’re finished the first time?” She mocks in a sing song voice. Tilts her head in mock confusion. “You think I’ll  _ let you _ be done after this? Think I won’t pin you to the bed and show you how good I look in leather? How good I look when you’re at my mercy? You think I’ll let you leave before I see if your smart mouth is the same across both universes? Without seeing if you  _ taste _ the same?”

_ Shit, she’s gonna come she’s gonna she’s- _

Georgiou leans in back to her throat, finds the hickey forming on that one spot under her jaw again and  _ bites _ and it’s over it’s fucking over god god  _ shit _

She’s almost glad that the Emperor is built like a goddamn assassin and is stronger than anyone would guess, since her knees damn near buckle as her legs tremble and her chest heaves and her pulse roars in her ears and yet, Georgiou holds her steady all the same. She keeps going, stokes the fire and draws it out as the waves wreck Kat, and fancy that, even stops when Kat finally bats at her hand. Such a gentleman.

As she’s getting her breathing under control, she feels the Emperor disengage, wipes her hand on Kat’s thigh under the spray. She snorts.

“What happened to tasting me, Emperor?”

Georgiou laughs into the space behind her ear as she fumbles for the shower controls.

“What happened to you listening to what I said, Admiral” She retorts lowly. “We aren’t done for at least a little while. After all,” A kiss to her jaw, far, far too gentle for such a dangerous woman as her.

“I still need to hear that scream”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm using This prompt for Kinktober, which was shown to me by the wonderful Killermanatee! Give them and their kinktober fics a heck of a lot of love, and feel free to leave me a kudos or comment if you enjoyed!


	4. Denial (Keyla/Joann)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALMOST FORGOT TO POST TODAYS, BUT ITS FINE. ALL FINE. I'M NOT FAILING FOUR DAYS IN. FIVE? MAYBE. NOT FOUR THO.

The first time it happens, it’s a resigned unfortune.

Keyla had just pulled her shirt off,  _ just _ started to pull one of Joann’s nipples between her lips when the computer pings from the incoming message. She groaned then, pulling off just long enough to take a breath. 

“Incoming message from Commander Saru”

“Go ahead”

“Lieutenant I’m sorry to pull you from your off hours but we have reason to believe your ‘doughnut skills’ -as Ensign Tilly put it- may be required in navigating the approaching asteroid field”

“Understood Commander, I’ll be up in just a moment sir”

Keyla shoots her a sympathetic smile. 

“Sorry babe, duty calls. When I get back?”

Joann snorts. “Hey, I know I don’t have to go to the bridge. Should be me apologizing to you. I’ll be here”

She ended up falling asleep before Keyla got back.

Interruptions are nothing revolutionary. They’re on a starship: any number of things can go wrong at any moment, and they’re always needed somewhere. But God, today has been  _ awful _ with them. Have been since the nine hundred year jump, really.

Just yesterday Joann had two fingers buried in Keyla, had been mouthing at her neck and whispering all those little praises that Keyla  _ loves _ to hear. And her love had been soaking it up, soaking the sheets, making those little noises that she only makes when she’s carefree and close. And then the ship jumped  _ straight into  _ a goddamn gravitational minefield of fractured planets because of course the technical mishaps happen when they’re not on duty, and she had to leave her poor girlfriend hanging and race to throw on clothes and sprint to the damn bridge before everyone died because their relief officers aren’t specialized in flying like they are, and  _ oh wasn’t that just typical.  _ But it was fine in the end, of course it was. The ship wasn’t pulled apart, Keyla showed off those ‘doughnut skills’ again, and she guided her girlfriend and their ship through it and they all worked like a well oiled machine. Fine. Good. Left the bridge, got some food, went back to their room, even better. Got some clothes off, laid her girlfriend back down, kissing again, fantastic. Keyla flips them over, and slips her hand under her underwear? Joann is over the fucking asteroid; just dandy!

And then engineering has an issue and Tilly is shouting over comms for any off duty officers to help with the damages, and something about how Reno is stuck in a jefferies tube with Stamets and a screwdriver and they might kill each other before the smoke inhalation does, and fucking Christ, theres always  _ something. _ And then they’re pulling clothes back on and Keyla is wiping her mouth as she runs and Joann is quashing the urge to scream for all the wrong reasons because fuck it, they have a job to do, and they always have later. Except they don’t, because engineering’s latest crisis lasts more than a few hours. When given the choice between spending the six hours between now and when their next shift on the bridge starts sleeping or having sex, both of them would choose sleep without a thought, and so they do. But her body remembers, especially when her girlfriend presses close to her back and kisses her neck before she drops off. And oh, does that only stoke the flames more.

Today, Keyla let her rest. Today they shared a five minute pre-shift shower where there was exactly zero time or space to do anything more intimate than even glance at one another’s naked skin. Today, all Joann can think about is how long they’ve been hanging, how riddled with tension they’ve both been for days, how the occasional glance between them over their stations has been so suddenly torturous. Shift ends. They pile into the elevator same as everyone, ride it down to their quarters deck, take the casual stroll down the hall, hand in hand.

When Keyla ends their calm at the threshold of their room and shoves her into the wall next to their door, she moans into her mouth obscenely.

Clothes ripped not off but out of the way, just enough to shove hands in shirts and mouths on necks. She bites Keyla’s carotid and doesn’t give a shit that it’ll show and Keyla hisses, yanks at the fly of her pants before shoving a hand down.

“We’re not stopping” she hisses to Joann as fingers slip past soaked underwear and frame her clit. She manages a strangled noise, pulls at Keyla’s pants in return.

“Not a chance”

“I don’t give a  _ shit _ if we’re about to hit a fucking planet the size of Earths sun” Keyla pants, even as Joann draws a rough circle against her clit. “We. Aren’t.  _ Stopping” _

It takes hardly any time. An  _ embarrassingly _ short time, in fact. Keyla pants against her and whimpers, claws, begs. And Joann is no better, making punched out sobs, goans, whimpers. When Keyla comes it’s with a gasping cry high in her throat, and the sound will ring in Joann’s ears for days, she knows it. And God, Keyla only presses her hand harder, makes circles faster, fingers her rougher and then Joann is  _ flying, _ crying out and whimpering into the collar of Keyla’s shirt as she’s consumed by it. The previous denials only make it hit harder, stronger, feel all the sweeter, and god its so good so fucking good.

At some point they’ve sunk to the floor just next to the inside of their door. Through pants, Keyla starts to laugh. Joann finds herself following.

“Go on,” she needles Keyla. “What’s so funny?”

Keyla snickers again. “Just thinkin’. Watch this be the  _ one time _ that we don’t get called off duty.

Joann finds herself laughing along even harder.

“Well you insist that you’re always right, so-” 

Keyla smacks her arm, and it only makes her laugh harder.

They don’t get called the entire night. Her girlfriend was right, as she always is.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm using This prompt for Kinktober, which was shown to me by the wonderful Killermanatee! Give them and their kinktober fics a heck of a lot of love, and feel free to leave me a kudos or comment if you enjoyed!


	5. Size Difference (Chris/Vina)

They really shouldn’t be doing this.

She’s just been admitted to Starbase Seven’s medical unit a few weeks ago, just barely gotten used to the new implants weaving in and out of her old wounds. He’s barely been back in the Captain’s chair, too preoccupied with taking up the mantle since Discovery’s final jump to do hardly anything. Hell, he theoretically shouldn’t even be  _ seeing her. _ Not that it’s illegal, mind you, or anything the Admirals specifically disallowed, but still. They once- they were once, they could have been, could still be-

It doesn’t matter. Not now. Not when both their futures are in question. More importantly, not when they’re taking advantage of the one hour they have before Vina will be whisked away to apply to Asylum’s academy entrance exam and Chris will be forced to leave her once more.

She’s sat up on the edge of the desk with Chris’s head between her legs. God, she had been so sensitive with touch starvation, so unused to contact even with the therapy she does day in and day out. He barely had to kiss her before she was clawing at his arms and panting. A kiss to the neck here, a tongue tracing the still sensitized flesh where implant met raised skin, and her breath was stuttering as she asked him to touch her.

Some part of him wondered when he sank to his knees -wonders even now- if he’s as good of a man as he aspires to be by doing this. By touching her. By knowing that some part of him is drawn to some part of her, and his willingness to succumb to the pull.

Vina tugs on his hair again, makes a gasping noise when his tongue draws a rough circle around her clit. He looks up.

She’s haloed in the lights hanging over them, head tilted back, long pale neck only enunciated by the thin, twisting silver lines of implants. Oh how he longs to kiss every inch of the lines whispering along her facial scar, her throat, rip her uniform off and find out where each and every branch leads. He sucks at her harder. Pulls back to nip at her thigh when he pushes a finger inside her, curls it until she’s whining high in her throat, pulsing around him closer and closer.

God, she looks so small compared to him. She was practically nothing to pick up and place on her bedroom desk. Her legs so thin even after weeks of being the focus of so many med staff: scheduled meals, multi vitamins, surgery, physical therapy. God, she was so  _ small. _

He lashes his tongue against her. She whines again. Tugs his hair again. Images flash in his mind over and over.

_ Una straddling him. Una shoving him down onto his own bed and fingering him open. Him hoising Una up against the wall with an overdramatic grunt as he lifts her, her smacking his arm as she laughs. “What’s the matter big boy?” quipped with humor even as he pushes in. “You can’t handle someone your own size?” _

_ Phil pinning him between his body and Phil’s desk and kissing him senseless. Phil forcing him to tilt his head up to meet him halfway to steal a kiss, two, three. Phil wrapping long slender limbs around his waist when Chris was fucking him. Phil crowding him into the mattress as he lay over him and fucked him all slow and deep. “What is it baby boy? Not used to someone making you feel all small?” _

Chris has never once felt like Phil or Una were lacking. Never once felt the urge to dominate his partners like they do, even if them doing so makes him light up  _ so good _ when they fuck him like that. But god, he  _ gets it _ now.

Under his mouth Vina is thrashing, whimpering, moaning and begging in whispers and choked cries. She just looks so fucking  _ small _ in relation to his own frame. He could pick her up and bend her over any surface he wanted. He could carry her and hold her up against the wall and pin her there and she would be helpless but to hold on. God, what would it be like to fuck her properly? To have her tiny waist under his hands and feel ler legs try to wrap themselves around him as he pressed between her legs and-

“Fuck, Chris. Fuck me, fuck me  _ please” _ Vina begs quietly.

His dick pulses. God, would he even  _ fit? _

He feels delirious, hysterical. More images fly through his mind. Fantasies conjuring in the moment and taking on lives of their own.

_ Vina straddling him and trying to fuck herself down onto him, oh so fucking tight and small as she rides him. Vina tying his hands to the bed and shoving his legs up to fuck him herself wearing an all too familiar toy and harness. Vina, pinned down by Una as they kiss, looking so slim and small compared to the Space Amazon that Una is. Vina clambering into Phil’s lap to give him a kiss, slender limbs interlocking until they were nothing but a tangle. How small she would look compared to Phil’s tall frame, how good they would look laying together. Una, watching so smugly with Phil as Vina sat in Chris’s lap and bit rough kisses into his neck as she pushed him down, down into the mattress as she showed him just how easy it would be for her to get him to bend for her. Four sets of hands, legs, lips. Grinding into hiked up thighs, arms trailing down arms. Four voices gasping for one another over and over as they took turns passing each other around until they were nothing but boneless and pleased and panting. Seeing Vina smile down at him all fucked out and satisfied after he had pinned her to the bed and she flipped him and dominated him nonetheless- _

Vina comes with a startled shout, sudden. Her hand tightens in his hair and her nails just scratch at his scalp a tad more and that’s  _ it. _ Can’t stop himself as he’s pulling himself out with one hand and barely gets two strokes in before he’s shouting against her still as his tongue fucks her through the aftershocks.

By the time his breathing is under control, Vina is tugging him back up to kiss her again. He doesn’t doubt she can taste herself on his lips, tries not to pay attention to how much  _ that _ does something to him too. Tries to act as though he  _ won’t _ be spending the rest of the next  _ week  _ processing that this whole ‘she’s tiny and I want her to top me’ thing is apparently a new  _ thing _ for him that he’s gonna try to hide before Una and Phil inevitably weasel it out of him anyway. It’s not like they don’t know he’s here, nor that they don’t know what’s happening. They’ll probably give him the week before they tease all the dirty details out of him.

He’s so caught up in thought that he barely registers Vina breaking the kiss. Only really notices when she raises his dirty hand to her face.

“Shit” He manages, tries to pull away. “I’ll, uh-” 

He’s cut off when Vina stops him from pulling away. He didn’t pull  _ hard, _ but still. Stronger grip than he had imagined. His shock must be apparent on his face, or she must have connected the dots herself. Or maybe they  _ are _ just somehow in sync still from that first time they met, like Una and Phil had teased countless times.

“Cybernetics” She says simply, gestures at her left hand, which is in fact outfitted with the implants like the rest of her side. He doesn’t manage to get a reply out, however.

Vina brings his hand to her mouth and takes a single swipe at his come streaked hand. He gasps just a tiny bit. She does it again; cleans his hand slowly and methodically as her eyes slide shut and his no doubt raise wide open. When she’s done, she pulls off his pointer finger with a  _ pop _ and looks back up at him. Smiles slow, eyes lowering. Somehow, she  _ knows _ what she’s doing to him has an effect.

“S- shit” he manages, taken off guard. Aroused. Confused. 

Vina laughs, a small, twinkling thing. Kisses him again. He tastes himself on her like she did not a minute before. Pulls back to smile a bit.

“Good to know I have something going for me” she quips good naturedly. “I don’t have nearly the experience that your partners have, so I’m glad to have at least some knowledge of what you like.” 

Right, his partners. Who know he’s here. Who will no doubt want to know about her. About how much he’s apparently into her, into this. Shit, they’re on the starbase. He’s a fleet Captain and she’s just come to the asylum base, and they just-

She interrupts his panicking with a kiss to his throat, and his pulse jumps. Thin legs wrap around his broad hips. Small fingers shove their way up his shirt to tweak at a nipple. Fire begins to burn low in his belly again.

“You think too much, Christopher” she whispers in his ear. All the confidence in tone as though she knew it to be fact. “Stop that” She commands, and teasing tone or not his head spins with the want to follow an order from one of his partners. 

“Now, I think I had asked you to fuck me?”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm using This prompt for Kinktober, which was shown to me by the wonderful Killermanatee! Give them and their kinktober fics a heck of a lot of love, and feel free to leave me a kudos or comment if you enjoyed!


	6. Upskirt Sex (Una/Phil Boyce)

She’s too old for desk sex, she really is.

Granted, she’s also theoretically too old to do other things, like spontaneous sing alongs in the turbo lift with Spock when no one else is around to hear them or sex on the ready room couch. But this act in particular feels just a bit cliche. Bent over the CMO’s desk, uniform skirt hiking up higher and higher as he shoves it up and hooks fingers into her underwear? Yeah, she hasn’t played around like this since the Academy days of playing ‘Bad Ensign’.

Phil presses a kiss behind her ear, drawing her out of her thoughts.

“What’re you thinking about there, honeybee?” comes the rolling Mid-Atlantic accent, and fuck if it doesn’t send a shiver down her spine that she has to try to repress.

“Thinkin’ bout how next time,  _ you _ should be the one in the skirt. This is killing my calves” He snickers against her softly. Presses another kiss.

“Oh yeah?” Purred in a low rumble.

“Yeah, now would you consider saving me from my torment Hercules, or are you just gonna stand there while I’ve got my ass out and-  _ woah!” _

Her quip is cut off when he latches a hand on one hip and spins her roughly. She nearly slides off the edge of the desk but he catches her. Just manages to grab her before shoving her legs apart again and stepping between them. She hops up onto the desk off instinct just as he slinks to his knees. And isn’t that a wonderful sight?

“You know I’m not Chris, Una” He chides gently as he hoists one leg over his shoulder. “I would  _ never _ wear a skirt just to tease you. What kind of man would I be if I did a little thing like that?” He shoves her underwear to the side with one hand, starts pressing kisses from her knee, up her thigh, lips brushing ever so closer and closer.

“Who says  _ you _ would be teasing  _ me?” _ She manages. His fingers spread her open. She fights a blush. “Isn’t that the whole point? Easy access, but you only use it to drive the other person nuts before you even get started?” She hopes the jab will get him actually fucking going already. 

He merely grins up at her, eyes shining.

“Is that so” He drawls. His eyes flicker back between her legs before staring back up into hers. A grin slowly takes over his face. 

Fuck, he’s not taking it as a warning. He’s taking it as a challenge.  _ Oh, fuck her. _

He goes back to kissing her thighs. Sucks bruises and bite marks all the way from inside her knees to the crease of her thighs. His fingers are far,  _ far _ too gentle for her: curling, nudging, circling her clit, only to dip further to where she’s so fucking wet and trailing it back up. His lips keep getting close, so achingly close to where she needs them to be, and fuck, he  _ knows it. _ Every time he presses a kiss to the junction between her leg and groin it’s barely anything more than a trailing of lips, a breath on her sex, a laugh.

When he finally,  _ finally _ presses in to lick at her broadly she’s just barely holding back from screaming. Frustration? Arousal? Who knows, the scream is caught in her throat nonetheless. She’s so on edge already, so goddamn tense and needy and ready that she’s not gonna last long, not gonna need much just needs him to fucking  _ move- _

His fingers move down as his mouth gently sucks at her clit. Fingers circle her entrance, gathering the wetness there _ , Still teasing. _ She can’t stop her mouth opening even if she had any care left to.

“Phil please,  _ please _ for the love of god just please Fuck Me Phil  _ please-” _ It comes out in one big rush. Her fingers scrape at his scalp and her pleas fall from her tongue with ease she normally doesn’t have and she just needs him. Needs this so bad and-

Phil suddenly presses two fingers  _ in, _ and all the breath is gone from her lungs.

He starts fucking into her, rough and fast and curling ever so slightly  _ exactly _ where she needs it. She’s vaguely aware of how loud she’s getting, how her thighs are squeezing his head and how tight she’s clamped around his fingers but she can’t help it, couldn’t if she wanted to. His mouth suddenly sucks harder, and stars cover her eyes.

Fuck fuck he’s swiping at her faster, sucking harder and fucking into her rougher and the sudden rush of sensory overload on her skin has her head spinning, eyes rolling. She’s begging, swearing, gasping, calling his name as he works her harder and harder faster and faster and  _ oh fuck there it is. _

She comes far louder than she probably should, even with the soundproofing measures. The shocks course through every synapse in her. It feels like she’s crashing, like she’s falling. She doesn’t know, doesn’t care. Feels too good to wonder. And he pushes her through it, fucks her through each wave and fall until she’s gasping on the desk in the aftermath and he’s reaching for one of the desk drawers to fish out a wipe. 

When he’s done, she’s mostly recovered. Brings him up to kiss her lips, laughs as he has to stoop to kiss her. Laughs even harder when he shifts and his knee cracks ominously. He pulls away.

“I’m getting too old to get on my knees on the metal floors in this damn place” He mumbles.

“Now you know how I felt” She replies seamlessly. Hops up off the desk before spinning them around and shoving him where she once sat. Her hands are on his chest, and he looks at her with another grin.

“Your turn?” She asks, slowly drawing her hands down his chest.

“Do I still have to wear the skirt this time?” 

She chuffs. “Next time, big boy. I’ve got a few other things planned for you right now”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm using This prompt for Kinktober, which was shown to me by the wonderful Killermanatee! Give them and their kinktober fics a heck of a lot of love, and feel free to leave me a kudos or comment if you enjoyed!


	7. Begging (Reno/Pollard)

Jett Reno loves exactly three things in her new life: Her job, Antagonizing Stamets, and  _ this. _

Sure her knees are killing her, and there’s at least a seventy percent possibility that she’s gonna smack her head on the desks edge at least once, but god. The sight alone is worth it. Tracy’s hands twitching in her hair as she pushes every ounce of control into not ripping her hair out is worth it. Hearing the gasps and the bitten off noises that tell Jett she’s getting nearer and nearer to her goal are so, so worth it.

Tracy works far, far too hard. And Jett knows that pressure; had felt it everyday for nearly a year as she kept her friends alive using nothing but a few medical logs and a prayer. And Tracy has felt that every day even  _ before _ their reckless jump across centuries. Jett doesn’t blame her for working tirelessly. But she  _ does _ blame her for not giving herself respite, and that’s where their little game begins.

Jett always waits for Tracy’s tells: her ordering comfort food when they meet for lunch, her pulling more than two double shifts in as many days, when Jett wakes for her next shift and sees Tracy passed out on top of her bed still in uniform like a goblin instead of sleeping how normal humans should. From there it’s a simple game. Flirt a bit here, make an innuendo there. Drop a subtle hint that she might stop by to ‘bring her dinner’ when Tracy is in the paperwork hours, but never say when. Leave her guessing.

She pulls her head back to look up at Tracy, and she quietly groans at Jett. Shoots her a look that would normally cut durasteel, but Jett just grins. She’s far too disheveled and far too at Jett’s mercy to be giving orders.

“Jett..” Tracy warns, tugging at her hair.

“Yes, Princess?” Returned with mock innocence. “Oh, were you enjoying that? I couldn’t tell. You didn’t let me know” said again, teasing. Always teasing. Tracy hisses through her teeth. Her head tilt’s back to the ceiling. She still won’t do it. 

_ ‘Damn, sorry baby, but looks like you’re gonna need to be pushed just a little more’ _

It’s a game they play. A battle of wills. Unstoppable force meets immovable object. Tracy needs to be  _ pushed. _ Teased, bitten, groped,  _ adored. _ She needs to be pushed so close and yet so far from the edge for long enough that she forgets everything but Jett between her thighs. Pushed and pushed until she can finally let go, lose her mind. She needs to be pushed until she  _ begs.  _ And oh, that is a service that Jett is all too willing to supply.

A teasing broad lick against her clit, a gentle suck on her clit. Rough fingers thrusting into her hard all the while, just to keep her on edge. Listen for her tells, wait until she’s tightening up and getting close and wanting it so bad, then  _ stop. _

Tracy always breaks then, no matter how long their game has gone on; a cry always leaves her throat, fingers in her hair, thighs close around her head. The ‘please’ goes unspoken, and Jett won’t stop until it is. She sucks her clit harder then, just to shock the oversensitized flesh. Shoves her fingers back in rough and repeats until Tracy starts to shake.

And she’s shaking now. Trembling like a leaf, moving sinuously in her desk chair. She’s got that little smile on her face that always goes straight down between Jett’s own legs. The smile that says Tracy’s losing that edge, losing that composure and is falling headfirst into lavishing under the attention and teasing Jett provides. Oh she’s close. She can feel it. Just once or twice more and she’s putty in her hands.

Like that, she pulls away just one more time, and just as quickly those hands in her hair tighten to the point where it’s borderline painful, stopping her in her tracks. Tracy whines.

_ “Please” _ Whispered so beautifully, so sensually. “Please please please Jett just,  _ please” _

And  _ there it is. _ Just like that Jett has won, and now she can claim her prize.

“As you wish, Princess” she qips before diving back between her legs.

Tracy honest to god  _ moans _ when she does it, and fuck if that sound won’t be ringing in her ears all week. A pleased and choked out  _ “ah!” _ followed by pants as Jett curls her fingers, sucks at her clit, flicks her tongue just how Tracy likes it. Faster, harder. Give Tracy her reward for being so good, for letting her do this, let Jett watch her come.

“Please please fuck, oh fuck yes please fuck, _ fuck!” _

In an instant Tracy’s clamping down on her fingers and coming with a shout. She grinds into Jett as she keeps going, fucks her through it, rides her high and keeps chasing it, moans with how good it is and rolls with each wave . Gasping and swearing and pulliing at Jett’s hair. It’s one of the hottest things Jett’s ever seen, even if she’s seen it a dozen times. Getting to watch someone so put together fall apart, and know it was  _ you _ who made that happen? Hell, it’s downright addictive.

Tracy gets herself together, and Jett pulls off but keeps her fingers put. Tracy looks down at her fondly.

“Someone looks pleased with herself” Tracy says. One of her hands slips down to swipe a thumb at the corner of Jett’s mouth. She turns into it, kisses it just to see Tracy smile.

“Says the woman who just called to a god she doesn’t believe in because her roommate made her come” Jett teases. Reflexively leans back to avoid the swat Tracy mimes, and yup, she just smacked her head on the desk. Called it.

Tracy makes a concerned noise, pitches forward to check on her.

“I’m fine, I’m fine” Jett laughs, batting Tracy’s hands away. “Hazard of the job”

“Oh, so now it’s your  _ job _ to get me off?” Tracy questions with a raised eyebrow.

Jett grins, curls the fingers still buried in Tracy. Tracy’s face breaks, eyes fluttering as she whimpers. “Yeah, it is” Jett answers. “And you know what Princess?” She leans forward just enough to press a kiss to her stomach.

“I fucking  _ love _ my job”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm using This prompt for Kinktober, which was shown to me by the wonderful Killermanatee! Give them and their kinktober fics a heck of a lot of love, and feel free to leave me a kudos or comment if you enjoyed!


	8. Masturbation/Jealousy (Tilly/Michael)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> full disclosure I wrote this while tipsy and also in one stream of consciousness so Fuck it we're doing this Live i guess.

She’s drunk. Well, not drunk drunk, but drunk enough.

She’s  _ just _ gotten Michael back. Just seen her again, hugged her,  _ smelled her.  _ She looks so different now, even if it’s only been one year. God, one  _ whole year for Michael.  _

She’s so different, and yet-

Tilly wobbles where she stands at her doorway. Right. Drunk. Sets the glass down before she hits her own bed mere feet away. Michael hasn’t come back yet, to their room. Hasn’t settled back in. Probably still making her rounds seeing people again. God, she’s missed her.

_ Michael on the bridge, long hair so intricately braided swept over her shoulders. Michael in clothes she’s crafted and patched herself over the year long gap between them. Michael who’s weight has changed and who’s another year older and who’s gained so much understanding about the world around her and survival tactics- _

_ Michael. Michael who still smiles so warm. Michael, who looks up at the stars with such a fondness it makes her heart and knees weak at the thought of her looking at Tilly even a fraction like that. Michael who may not smell like federation soap and Vulcan incense, but who still smells so uniquely her. _

_ Michael who, when hugged, presses her whole body into yours like she’s trying to hug with her whole self rather than just her arms. _

Something sparks then, low in Tilly’s gut. A not unfamiliar flame, but one that she tries not to think about. 

She doesn’t  _ want _ Michael out there on the bridge. She doesn’t want her reacquainting with everyone Exactly At This Moment. She’s not entitled to Michael or her time or her love, oh no, but. But.

But Michael is  _ hers. _

A hand pushes down past the band of her pants without a conscious decision, really. Teases herself over the fabric of her underwear.

Michael is  _ hers.  _ She wants Michael to walk back through these doors and see her like this. Wants to pick her up and see if Michael still makes that little squeak she always does when Tilly sweeps her off her feet. Wants to chuck her onto the bed (gently!) and look into her eyes until Michael  _ gets it.  _ Until she realizes Tilly has loved her so long and so deeply-

The hand shoved between her legs finally, finally slips under her underwear and the hiss she makes is equal parts relief and need.

-She’s loved her so fucking long, and Michael would  _ see it  _ in her eyes. Would she gasp? Smile? Tear up? Would it matter? 

No. She’d laugh a little bit, and Michael would laugh too. And she’d finally get to kiss her and see if her lips are as soft as they seem. And she’d get to smooch her all over her face and her neck, and she bets Michael’s a giggler -she  _ knows _ she is- and she’d kiss all over her brilliant and beautiful face, and then Michael would lean up and claw at Tilly

_ ‘Please’, _ she would say. ‘ _ Tilly, Please’ _

She would be all too happy to oblige. 

Kiss her face, down her neck. Rip her shirt open and hike a knee up between her legs. Mouth at all those muscles and curves she’s seen over the years of their living together but never got to touch. How different would she look? Feel? Would there be new scars to trace with her tongue? Would Michael still have that cute little line of hairs down her stomach that Tilly has spent far too long fantasizing about? 

She can see it now; mouth on Michaels breast as her fingers pull and shove at the unfamiliar clothes blocking her access. Michael’s hands in her hair, on her face, panting and laughing and writhing under her touch. God, Michael always soaked it up whenever they cuddled together during movie nights, how would she be when she spent a Whole Year Alone? How responsive would she be under her lips, her hands? Squirming and panting as Tilly grabbed the band on those fucking pants and yanked them down and finally got to grin up at Michael before she showed her all the filthy fucking things she had planned-

Her orgasm hits her like a shuttle at warp three. Fuck, she hadn’t even realized she had gotten so into it. A strangled cry leaves her throat as she bucks into the fingers grinding hard circles into her clit. Fuck, she hadn’t even gotten to the part where she actually  _ gets Michael off _ before she came. 

Her breath comes in harsh pants as she comes down from the high. Aftershocks make her twitch a bit still. She’s drunk. She’s drunk, and emotional, and she’s gonna have to think about her poor life decisions and also this newfound possessive streak and deconstruct  _ all that  _ tomorrow, when she’s sober and hungover and regretting every life decision she’s ever made.

Hand over comforter, rolling over to the wall. Eyes shut. Closed. Sleep.

\--

What feels like two minutes later, she wakes to the sounds of rustling. Still not sober, still half asleep. Vague noises. A change in pressure.

Someone slips into bed behind her, curls themselves up to her back.

“Michael?” Tilly manages groggily. She hears a quiet, shaky breath. A hand strokes her back. Tilly turns around. She can barely see, but it’s  _ her. _

“Tilly” Michael manages quietly, and Tilly can practically  _ hear _ the smile in her voice. 

It’s on instinct alone that she’s yanking at the comforter and pulling it down to allow for Michael to slip under it and into her arms. And oh, she still slips in the same. Still curls up into her arms like she was  _ made _ to do so.

“Hi Mikey” Tilly mumbles into her hair. Michael laughs.

“How drunk are you?” she asks as she snuggles into Tilly’s chest, amusement clear. She knows Tilly only calls her Mikey when she’s either drunk or  _ very _ tired.

“A little. Missed you” she responds, snuggling back. Wraps an arm around her as she drifts back off.

“I missed you too” Michael breathes into her collarbone. Her skin prickles. “More than you could ever know”

She’s still drunk, and barely awake, but she manages one more quip before she nods off fully. Presses a kiss into the crown of Michaels head.

“You wanna bet?”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm using This prompt for Kinktober, which was shown to me by the wonderful Killermanatee! Give them and their kinktober fics a heck of a lot of love, and feel free to leave me a kudos or comment if you enjoyed!


	9. Sex Pollen/Power Bottom (Hugh/Paul)

Of all the perks that came with being an engineering rat, avoiding a sex pollen breakout was a weird one.

The ship had been on lockdown for a good number of hours while the med crew and any free science officers worked on synthesizing an antihistamine to control it. For Paul, that was a free ticket to working on the spore farms, which was nothing if not wonderful for him (aside from Reno’s continued bitching). But his partner wasn’t nearly so lucky.

Med staff had been too busy for him to even have a clue about what was going on up there, let alone how Hugh was doing with all of it. Hour one, and those trapped in sickbay were sent on their merry ways to fuck the pollen away. Hour two, still no news. Hell, even Reno had started pacing by hour three having gotten the same radio silence from Pollard. If Paul weren’t just as worried and just as loathe to admit it, he might have called Reno out on her incredible concern for someone she insisted was ‘just a roommate’.

Hour five, and the lockdown was lifted. Apparently with no cure, a suppressant was made to aid in lifting the effects until it eventually ran its course or the science nerds had a breakthrough. Fine by him. If he could go to sleep tonight in his bed and not the spore grow beds, he was happy.

He’s been home for less than three minutes when he hears the doors open from outside the bathroom. Spits the mouthful of toothpaste out before he calls out to his partner.

“Hey! Have a fun day watching people try not to screw each other to death?” A dim laugh responds. Something about it strikes a chord in Paul. He knows Hugh. Something isn’t right.

“Hugh?” He calls again. Hears the sounds of what he assumes is Hugh pulling off his shoes, then walking. Pacing. Paul wipes his face with a towel and opens the bathroom door-

-Only to be shoved right back into the bathroom counter,  _ hard. _

Lips meet his, messy and desperate as hands grasp his arms, his shoulders, rake down his chest. Paul makes a muffled noise against him but fuck if his body isn’t responding. He grabs Hugh’s face, tilts their heads to press open mouthed kisses back, slip his tongue past his lips and tangle with Hugh’s. The resulting noise is hot; a whine that has them both pulling closer. Paul leans back, presses his pelvis forward. Hugh’s hard already. Paul pulls back.

Hugh opens his eyes. His pupils are blown wide open, he’s panting, and  _ very _ warm. Even more than usual. It clicks, suddenly.

“You got exposed to it too, didn’t you” Paul asks, but he knows the answer. Hugh nods, swallowing.

“We all did” He says through a laugh. “Pollard nearly took my head off when I asked if she had someone to go to if we couldn’t find a cure”. 

Paul chuffs. “What a coincidence. Reno nearly took  _ my _ head off when I asked if her ‘just a roommate’ had given her any updates on your situation up there or not. They really  _ are _ perfect for each other”. Hugh laughs against him.

“Well if they weren’t together before…”. Hugh takes a breath. Looks away before looking back to him. 

“Paul, we haven’t found a cure, and masturbation doesn’t cut it for long. I took the suppressants but-”

“Hugh, if I didn’t want to have sex with you, I would have told you already” Paul cuts him off. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll take care of you”. He pecks him on the lips. Just once, gently. “Like you take care of me”

Hugh smiles. His shoulders drop with the release of tension.

“Then let’s move this to the bed. We’re both too old for counter sex”

“Counter sex? No. Counter sex with toothpaste in the sink and a towel that’s just  _ begging _ to cause us to slip and fall? Yes”

Hugh grabs his hand as he laughs and tugs him back through the doorway. Shoves him down on the bed and clambers into his lap before kissing him slow. Paul pulls at Hugh’s jacket, breaks the kiss long enough to yank it and his shirt away before Hugh makes quick work of Paul’s own shirt. It’s a blur of lips and hands moving in increasing fervor. His pants get lost somewhere along the way, as do Hugh’s. They’re grinding into one another hard and slow, and fuck, this won’t last very long if they don’t get a move on here.

Paul breaks the kiss and fumbles sideways for their bedside drawers. Hugh stops him: pins both hands in his own and puts them back on his waist. 

“Dear, unless you plan on not being able to walk for days, or you suddenly have the urge to moon your colleagues tomorrow as you explain what you need them to patch up, we do need a few things”

“No we don’t”

Paul’s brain stops for a second. Reloads. 

“Honey-”

“Took care of it before I came here” Hugh mumbles between kisses. “If you weren’t gonna fuck me, our friends in the box under the bed would”

A beat passes as Hugh kisses him again and Paul tries to remember how to words. Fuck, he  _ took care of it? _ Paul skirts hands down Hugh’s waist, past the band of underwear and over his ass and-

Shit, he  _ did _ take care of it. Hugh makes a small noise as he presses back into Paul’s fingers.

“When did you-”

“CMO’s office and medicals bathrooms” Hugh answers. “We each got a few before shift change to do what we needed to.” A barely stifled laugh. “Don’t ask any further. Happens in medical  _ stays _ in medical”

_ That  _ was one hell of a mental picture. One hell of a photo album, really. Hugh, bent over a bathroom sink as he fuck’s himself open on his own slick fingers, panting and trying not to make a sound. But oh, he must have. Hugh has never been a quiet lover, especially not with this.

Paul presses his fingers harder against Hugh’s slick rim. Case in point, Hugh lets out a soft, broken noise high in his throat. Bucks back into Paul’s fingers impatiently.

“Paul, I’m fine. So either fuck me yourself, or sit there and watch while I dig out the box and do it my damn self” Hugh threatens. But he’s grinning still, and Paul grins back.

“Why can’t I do both, dear doctor? You want me so bad, you can- woah,  _ woah” _

Before Paul can even finish teasing him Hugh has already shoved his own underwear down and off. Moves back to pull Paul’s boxers down just enough to free his dick from the confines of them and grips him by the base. Within seconds it’s like all the air has been stolen out of his lungs. Paul pants, helpless but to grip Hugh’s waist and watch as he straddles him, lines them up and presses the tip of Paul’s dick at his rim. Looks down at him just long enough to flash a grin before he spreads his knees and slowly,  _ achingly slowly _ starts to press down on his dick.

God, if the air wasn’t gone from his lungs before, it was now. Paul gasps, tries to steady his breathing as Hugh tosses his head back and gasps high in his throat. Takes him inch by steady inch. It’s torture, and Paul tries his damndest to not writhe or buck up into his lover like he  _ desperately _ wants to. 

Finally, Hugh sinks to the base, and they’re flush. A beat passes of them just trying to adjust. The only sounds he hears are their joint panting and his heartbeat in his ears. Hugh’s chest trembles with his shaking breath. His hips twitch every so often, like he can’t quite help himself.

_ “Fuck, _ Paul” Hugh breathes on a trembling laugh. “You have  _ no idea _ how bad I needed this”

Paul doesn’t, but based on the beatific look on Hugh’s face even when he hasn’t come yet, he can imagine. He finds Hugh’s hands, interlocks their fingers and drags them up to Paul’s shoulders. Hugh takes the hint and grabs on, leaving Paul’s free to cling to his waist.

“This happens however you want it” Paul says as steady as he can. Hugh twitches around him, and it makes Paul’s breath hitch. 

Hugh grins back down at him, eyes lidded. “You’re gonna regret saying that”

Hugh sets a punishing rhythm right out the gate: hard, fast bounces on Paul’s lap that has the bed shaking and them both crying out with every move. Paul bucks back into him when Hugh shoves himself back down, and oh does that make Hugh cry out louder, cling to him tighter, fuck him harder. The noises made from skin hitting skin would be comical if they weren’t both so desperate to come, desperate to see the other come. 

Hugh fucks himself down harder and harder, breathing like a sprinter as his thighs flex so beautifully and his throat is bared. He’s grinning still even as he pants and swears and whines. 

Paul won’t last long, he knows he won’t. Priess one hand off Hugh’s waist to reach down to wrap around Hugh’s dick.

Hugh’s whole spine curves with it as he cries out.

“Paul,  _ Paul Paul please, _ fuck,  _ fuck-” _

He’s shaking, tightening around Paul and shit he’s so close he’s so goddamn close but this isn’t about him this is about Hugh. He gets a light grip on Hugh and gives a few quick strokes, swipes his thumb over the head on the latest thrust and-

Hugh comes with a  _ scream, _ high in his throat as he shoves himself down onto Paul’s dick and tightens up as he comes. And fuck, _ thats it _ for Paul and he follows his lover off the edge, head flying back into the bed as he cries out with the force of it. He’s consumed by the waves, pants and writhes and moans through each wave. His eyes clamp shut, regretfully missing his lover riding his own high, but he can’t help himself, can’t do anything different, too consumed by it.

Eventually, his lungs seem to remember how to be lungs again. Hugh disengages with a whimper, falls to lay half on top of Paul as they catch their breaths. Fuck, that was… something. A lot.  _ Good. _ Their hands find each other on Paul’s chest. He watches their fingers dance together.

“Are you ok” He asks quietly, tilting his head to Hugh’s, laying on his shoulder. Hugh nods.

“Mm. Definitely took the edge off” he replies quietly. Paul snorts.

“Only the edge? Honey, we can’t have another round like that one for a hot minute. We aren’t twenty somethings anymore” he teases. Hugh chuffs softly.

“We’ll see how I feel when we wake up.”

“Dear, we need to clean-”

“Honey, any other day I would agree with you. Right now? All I care about is catching a good nap. You can tell me ‘I told you so’ in a little bit”

“I  _ do _ like to be right…” Paul muses teasingly. Hugh pats his arm.

“Glad we’ve found common ground. Now, nap time”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm using This prompt for Kinktober, which was shown to me by the wonderful Killermanatee! Give them and their kinktober fics a heck of a lot of love, and feel free to leave me a kudos or comment if you enjoyed!


	10. Body Modification (Nhan/Georgiou)

“Left nipple”

“Bullshit. Show or drink”

Georgiou raises her glass in a toast. Nhan smiles back at her, satisfied, and watches her take the long drink she takes from her glass. Looks across at Nhan again before she swallows.

“Your turn, Lieutenant” Pitched low in her throat. 

Nhan tilts her head to the side in a mocking ‘I’m thinking’ pose. Fingertips brush along the stem of her own glass. Facial implants moving as her tongue seems to dart around in her mouth. She makes a soft ‘hmmmmm’ before looking back up at Georgiou.

“Collarbones”

Georgiou hmphs, rolls her eyes. “If you pierced those, you wouldn’t be able to move your arms, let alone fight. You’re smarter than that.” Nods to her with a smile. “Show or drink”

Nhan barks out a giddy laugh. Stands and sets her drink down before hand’s find the zipper on her uniform. Georgiou watches curiously as Nhan peels her jacket off, tosses it away before grabbing the hem of her tank top and yanking it off too. In a flash, Nhan stands before her half naked and unashamed. 

Two glinting crystals welded in metal shine like small stars on her collarbones.

“Reinforced surface piercings. Had ‘em for three years” Nhan quips proudly. “Last partner worked as the ships body mod expert down in medical. Also happened to unofficially be the only body piercer on ship, to boot.” Nhan shrugs. “We both thought it was hot” Nods to Georgiou with her chin as she sits back down. “Now drink”

Georgiou snickers before obediently taking the deserved swig. “Well done” She acknowledges once she’s swallowed. “Leave it to you to find the one person who’s kink is their job”. Nhan laughs as Georgiou ponders. “Ribcage. Tattoo.”

Nhan ‘hmmms’ again, swirling her drink. “I’m not buying it. Show or drink”

She huffs, but stands anyways. “You just want to see me without a shirt”

“Fair’s fair” Nhan says, gesturing to herself. “Now hurry up, we don’t have all night”

If her arms weren’t bound up in shirt fabric at the moment, she would have shot the Lieutenant a look. But, on the other hand, this  _ was _ some of the most fun she’s had since she was running that Orion bar years ago. Shirt removed, she straightens. Pivots sideways to show off the long, swirling ink embedded in her side.

Nhan whistles. “Damn, that looks like it took a few hours.”

“It did. Woefully inconvenient, but it’s the price one pays for art, I suppose”

“What’s it mean?” Nhan asks, waving at the intricate swirls and dashes and lines of numbers.

“We all must keep some secrets” She answers cryptically, sitting back down on the sofa. Picks up her drink again. “Take your sip, then. Like you said, we don’t have all night.”

Nhan grins back at her. She takes her drink and raises it above her head as she tilts back, exposing the long column of her throat as she pours it down into her mouth.

_ ‘Such an action would almost certainly get you killed, where I come from, Lieutenant’  _ She muses to herself.

Her drink drained, Nhan’s head tilts back up to look at her. Wicked grin still in place, she pitches her next theoretical modification.

“Clitoral hood” She says simply, firmly.

Before she can even help herself, Georgiou’s eyebrow raises. 

_ ‘Oh, it will be you who takes this game further, then.’ _ Almost a shock, considering how most of the people in this universe operate. But then again, this one isn’t most people.  _ ‘I knew I liked you for a reason’ _

Georgiou leans in from her position on the couch. “Bullshit” she draws, rolling her tongue on the ‘L’.

Nhan grins back at her. Also leans in.

“You want to reconsider?” She asks. “I could tell you the story of when I got it, how fucking agonizing the wait for it to heal up was, the sex when it  _ was  _ healed.” Nhan lists. “Or the story of the tattoos on my thighs, or the surface piercings on my back-”

“What  _ I want _ to hear are either the sounds of you dropping that skirt of yours, or you taking another drink” She bites back, perhaps sharper than she meant to out of habit. 

Nhan merely raises an eyebrow at her bite. Smiles nonetheless as she reaches for the belt on her skirt. Shoes long gone before this, and leggings discarded a few rounds prior, Nhan steps out of her skirt.

She stands before Georgiou in nothing but sheer black underwear that hides hardly anything.

“You sure you don’t want to back down?” She asks once more, teasing, but the seriousness lies under it. She’s giving her the option to say no.

She doesn’t need one.

“Only if  _ you’re _ sure you can answer one final question for me, Lieutenant”. She holds Nhan’s eyes as Nhan looks back at her questioningly.

“Shoot”

“This partner of yours. How many piercings did you get for her?”

“I got them for  _ me”  _ Nhan corrects. “But…” Nhan looks to the ceiling as she counts. “Three, I believe”

Georgiou hums at that. Takes another sip. “Then I suppose I have a follow up question”. She levels a gaze at the nearly nude Nhan barely a foot away.  _ “Do you want any more?” _

It’s more of a test, really. Perhaps a means of gaining back her advantage. How far will the Lieutenant go? Has this all been an elaborate lie? What will this young woman do in the face of a proposition such as this?

She expects Nhan to stutter, or even give a quip something akin to ‘next time’ to deflect.

Nhan isn’t most people, as Georgiou is once again reminded. She holds her gaze as her smile returns, sharp and seductive.

“That would depend,  _ Agent, _ on what you had in mind”

She’s startled enough that it dislodges a genuine laugh from her chest. She finishes her drink.

Stands and latches a hand on the other woman’s waist. Nods to the sleeping alcove, and the replicator she had long since removed the safety overrides on jutting out from the wall next to it.

“Perhaps it would be better to show you instead”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm using This prompt for Kinktober, which was shown to me by the wonderful Killermanatee! Give them and their kinktober fics a heck of a lot of love, and feel free to leave me a kudos or comment if you enjoyed!


	11. Medical Play (Phil Boyce/Vina)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ten minutes to midnight? Perfect time to write kinktober.
> 
> Also, there's implied Chris/Una/Phil/Vina bc we LOVE a good canon fix it happy ending poly group. Also, this is Silly, and it's Great. There are no sad endings in my world, only new beginnings and a heap of implied or explicit orgasms.

One would think years of check ups, appointments and surgeries since leaving Talos would make trips to Medical less annoying to her, but it’s simply not the case. It’s not that she hates medical, or feels anything other than gratitude and respect towards everyone who’s helped her along the way. Quite the opposite. But no one likes to be poked and prodded at all hours of the day for all manner of reasons, like she was back at the asylum seekers medical ward. Hell, even now, years later, her implants force her to get her reviews monthly instead of quarterly, which is  _ bullshit. _

On the bright side, her doctor  _ is _ quite handsome. And treats her  _ very nicely, _ unlike some of her previous ones.

She’s drawn out of her reminiscing when Phil re-enters the room, smile on his face. Oh, how she loves to see that smile. The doors to his office whoosh and click shut behind him as he pulls up his padd.

“Ok V, just got scan results back. Blood count looks good, vitamin stores are up, and your immune system seems to be doing rather well, so you should be clear to get the latest vaccinations next quarter.” He rambles on, occasionally looking up at her and gesturing with his hands. Lists a few medications she’s on to confirm what needs refilling, jots down a few notes.

“Well, all that done, you should be able to go back to shift fairly quickly. And, with luck..” he trails, pausing to tap out a few last words on the padd. “...You’ll finish up work in time to make it to dinner with us tonight” He finishes with a wink and a grin.

“Oh dear doctor, wherever are we going?” She teases, mimicking his accent just to needle him a bit more.

“Well my dear, there’s this _ lovely _ little place called The Caf” he teases back, settling in the chair he’s dragged over. “Terribly crowded, and just  _ dreadful  _ lighting, but the company is fantastic. And for the price?” he makes a soft ‘pff’ noise as he gestures to the air. “What a  _ steal!” _

The last line sends her into hysterics, and Phil follows her into the giggle fit head on. It’s one of the things she loves about him the most. About all of them in the little four person group, really: How they can make her lose it laughing with the stupidest shit and they’ll only follow her down into hysterics.

Phil settles down first.

“So, you’re feeling ok?” He asks, setting a hand on her knee. She nods back to him with a hum. “I know you would have told me already, but, you know. Doctor and all” he quips with a little twitch of his brows. She laughs again.

“Yes, Phil. I’m fine.”

He nods, smiling. “Ok, ok!”. He stands, nods to the door. “I release you from my prison. Go, I dunno, feed your experiments in the botany labs, or whatever you do”

She laughs again, but doesn’t move. “Phil, aren’t you forgetting something?”

He turns to her again. Tilts his head.

“Forgetting what?”

\---

“The implants that take up, what, twenty-something percent of my body?”, she asks plainly. Twenty is a  _ bit _ much: Thin branches across scar tissue on her face, down from her neck to her knee on the left side, parts of her arm. More branches wrapping around her ribs and chest, a few doing the same on the left thigh. The notches and lines of the spine stabilizers in two lines down her back. More implants than the average human crew member, sure, but not as dramatic as she makes it out for him.

He shoots her a patient smile. “Jaybird, darling, I’ve seen you without your uniform on plenty of times since your last check up. So have Una and Chris, infact. You’re fine -unless something is bothering you?” That last one is particularly worrisome. Had she told him and he not registered it?  _ Was _ there something he didn’t notice?

“Oh, nothing’s bothering me doctor” She says in  _ That Voice; _ the one she uses when Chris has just said something particularly stupid and she’s about to tease the hell out of him, or when she’s about to surprise Una with a handful of flowers she grew somehwere in the labrynth of the botany wing. She’s  _ up to something. _

“Oh no?” He asks. He can’t hide the amusement that seeps into his voice even if he tried.

“No, no. I just think it would be good, you know, to make sure?” She says, fighting to keep her smile small as she looks up at him coyly. “Better to be thorough, and all that”

“Hmm”, he answers back. He’ll play this game of hers. “Well, I suppose it  _ would _ be good to double check…”

_ “Exactly” _

“But it  _ could _ take some time,” he warns. “You may not get back to shift in quite a bit. I would have to check each part of the implants-”

“And make sure I have… mobility. Muscle control.  _ Flexibility.” _ She says the last word all drawn out, lets her tongue linger on the ‘x’ just for dramatic effect. He has to fight the grin rapidly threatening to take over his whole face with everything he’s got.

“Yes, yes. Oh, not to mention you would have to allot time for stripping down and getting dressed back up. I would have to be able to get to see and feel all the working parts, and all that you know”

“Mmhm” she affirms mock seriously.

“And then we would have to have you lay back on the biobed there,” he motions to where she’s sat patiently. “Make sure you can do all those stretches and flexes you mentioned,” Which, considering what the two of them and their two other lovers had been up to the previous night, he’s  _ well fucking aware _ she’s  _ fully  _ capable of.

“Oh of  _ course _ Doctor” she answers back, and it’s then that he just  _ can’t _ anymore. He feels his entire chest wheeze with the laugh as he crumples forward, arms squeezing around his front as he just  _ loses it _ laughing. She isn’t far behind, high, borderline hysterical giggles intertwining with his own peals of laughter. He looks back to her, still laughing, still grinning. She’s flushed, eyes closed, nose scrunched, mouth hidden by a hand as she tries to get her laughs under control. God, she’s adorable. And hysterical. And also, a genius. 

Fuck that paperwork he was gonna do anyways. He  _ is _ obligated to ensure her safety, after all.

He manages to get his breath under control long enough to set the computers doors to lock his office under his command codes. When Vina grins back at him, she’s still blushing. Perfect.

“You  _ do _ make salient points my dear little jaybird” he quips. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I think I’d like to see those implants now, please.”

Her face shifts from teasing and soft to one of sheer triumph, and he can’t help but grin back at her. All she had to say was ‘Up for another round, right here, right now?’ and he would have said yes. She didn’t have to go through the theatrics. 

_ ‘But’ _ he muses. Eyes half lidded as he watches one of his lovers hop down from the biobed. Pulls her hair up and away from her shoulders as she goes for the zipper of her uniform, giddy and smirking all the way.  _ ‘Where would the fun be in that?’ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm using This prompt for Kinktober, which was shown to me by the wonderful Killermanatee! Give them and their kinktober fics a heck of a lot of love, and feel free to leave me a kudos or comment if you enjoyed!


	12. Swallowing (Pike/Leland)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> love me some smut, angst, and hints at old academy orgies and queer-platonic love

Their little tete a tete is  _ really _ gonna end like this, huh?

They’d been in Leland’s office for the better part of an hour. Kat’s long since departed, having decided she’s done with their shit and honestly, he can’t blame her. They’ve been arguing, pacing, laughing, talking. Staring at one another across the room and wondering how the hell they’re gonna work together, if at all.

He’s not sorry, so he didn’t apologize. Leland did, but he doesn’t mean it. 

Their past is carefully ignored. Just as Kat ignored it earlier. It’s easier that way. 

Easier to forget how Leland has changed so much since their academy days, and so has Chris. Easier to not try and compare whether Kat’s laugh lines as as strong as they were back in those days, of what Chris looked like when he was still scrawny and dark haired, or how a young Leland who’s curly hair was a constant mess and who’s smile was a mile wide compares to the Leland of today, who even when he laughs always looks like he’s only humoring you.

It’s easier to pretend they were never friends, never closer. Never members of the five man band, lest they remember two of their members are gone. Gabe, lost to a universe beyond his understanding. And he doesn’t know who the hell is sauntering around calling herself Georgiou, but she sure as  _ hell _ isn’t  _ their Pippa. _

Leland had picked another fight. Baited Chris into it and god, Chris was so overwhelmed and angry that he selfishly took it. Arguing led to showboating, the puffing of chests and one upmanship that he rarely ever has a taste for, but it felt so good to be angry for once. Too good to pass up.

When Leland stalked acrosss the room in three quick, sweeping steps, he thought for  _ sure _ Leland was about to punch him, or stab him, or whatever it is that Section 31 considers conflict resolution to be. Shoving him up into the wall behind him? Not the move he expected, but not out of character.

The clash of lips and tongue and teeth he got when Leland shoved his lips to his? Also unexpected.

He didn’t fight it, even so. Quite the opposite.

He grabbed the back of Lelands neck with one hand, wrapped a leg around his and trapped him to his body. Shoved his tongue down his throat and scraped his free hand over his side. 

_ ‘Your move’ _ he said without saying. _ ‘You wanna play? We’ll play’ _

Ten minutes later, and Leland is biting a bruise into his shoulder, so deep and hard that he’s fairly sure he’ll still have it by the time he goes back to Enterprise, god knowing when that would be. Chris’s hand is wrapped around Le’s dick, slick with spit and precome and sure, it’s not the best hand job he’s ever given, but considering how Le’s clawing at his waist and biting back noises, he thinks it’s fine.

That’s another apparently new thing about Le: he hasn’t made a sound. Back in their five man band days was apparently another story, or some chapter in Leland’s book he wants to seal away forever. He remembers when Le was the second loudest, only beaten by Gabe. And god forbid when the two of them hooked up for the nth time-

Le lets go of his collarbone long enough to curse, and Chris just manages to move his hand and catch his release before it ruins  _ both _ their clothes. Leland at least has clothes here: it’s his ship. If Chris’s uniform is anything less than spotless, he’s fucked and they both know it.

Leland caches his breath. Disengages far enough that Chris can weasel his hand up from between them and to his face. Catches Le’s eyes as he licks his hand clean and devotes every ounce of control he has into keeping his face as neutral as he can while he does it.

Le, damn him, grins  _ wolfishly.  _ Taps his chest with two fingers before shoving him back into the wall again. 

It’s a blur of hands and teeth. Somehow, some-when, Chris’s jacket is opened fully. His pants yanked down along with underwear and apparently his common sense. Logical reasoning soon follows, as he watches Le sink to his knees. 

He blows him slow,  _ stupidly _ slow. Wants to keep him on the edge until he begs, probably. Endlessly trying to feed his ego. Chris, who on most days prides himself on being the bigger man, can’t find it in himself to be that. He’s no better, and proves it by fucking himself into Le’s throat. He almost wishes Le would have the decency to gag, to shoot him a dirty look, anything. Instead, Le pops off the head of his dick with a soft suck, and Chris wants to  _ die _ it’s so good.

“You miss me, huh” Leland quips.

He rolls his eyes. “Fuck you. You gonna make me come in the next century, or should I just pack it in and head home now?”

“Why so impatient, Chris? You got a date with your vibrator later?”

“If you’re still so incapable of getting me off, maybe”

Le laughs. “Still Chris after all these years”

Against his better judgement, Chris laughs too. “And you’re still you, and we’re both still assholes. Now, with that out of the way?”

Le nods, putting a hand up in defense. “Alright, alright. I’m a man of my word”

_ That _ also gets a laugh from Chris. “Since  _ when?” _

Leland looks up at him through his lashes. Narrows his eyes. “I’ve always been a man of my word. And right now, my words are this.” With a shove to Chris’s inner knees that force his legs apart more, Leland shoulders his way between them. “You’re not leaving here until I hear you scream, and you  _ will _ for me”

Chris almost laughs, but not before Leland has the head of his dick between his lips, sucking on it just a  _ tad _ too hard and has Chris hissing, clawing at Le’s shoulders. He pops off just as fast, and Chris almost growls, looks down to tell Le to fuck off. Instead feels the words die in his throat as he watches Leland spit on his fingers, envelops Chris’ dick in his mouth again just afterward. He fights the urge to toss his head back and maintains Le’s gaze as he spreads Chris open with one hand and presses a finger into him.

It’s rough. No preparation, barely any lube and Chris would be annoyed at the lack of manners and sex ettiquite if it weren’t also  _ exactly what he fucking needed. _

His head does fall back then, brain lost to the alternating sensations of Leland’s mouth and fingers intent on driving him insane. He fucks him hard, keeps his pace uneven just to drive him nuts, and it works, and Chris wants to be mad, wants to hold out just for spites sake, for prides sake. But god, he  _ can’t. _ He missed being fucked, raw and rough and needy. Missed not being in control all the  _ fucking time, _ missed feeling like he could be pushed for the sake of being pushed becuase he’s human too, dammit.

Le shoves another finger in, too soon. Curls them both right up into where Chris needs them the most and he feels himself cry out with it. Not a scream, not yet. But close enough to it that he can  _ feel _ the smugness radiate off Le. But its still not enough, not even  _ close _ to enough and he’s desperate, aching, wanting. Just needs a little more, but doesn’t know what. Feels like hes gonna lose his damn mind and then Le goes and makes it worse by pulling off  _ again. _

“You remember the night Pips stole that bottle of gin you used to like?” Le asks, voice rough.

Oh, of course  _ now,  _ when Leland is two fingers deep in Chris’s asshole and just had his dick down his throat, Le is gonna go ahead and bring up Academy memories.

“Yeah? The  _ fuck,  _ Le?” He snarks back, nearly hysterical.

“You remember the night we had with it? All five of us?” Le’s fingers curl inside him now, slower. More teasing. 

God, he remembers all right. Couldn’t forget it if he tried.

“God, I still remember how you all looked” Leland muses. Dear god, he’s gonna dirty talk him. 

“Remember how Kat kissed Pips first? And Gabe got jealous, and how you laughed and laughed. And then the bottle spun and he landed on you, and he pulled you in for a kiss and you guys just didn’t stop?” Le laughs. “God, you looked so good when he hauled you up into his lap. And then when he shoved his hand into your sweatpants to grab you?” His other hand finally, finally starts to stroke his dick, still far too soft but god, it plays into the memory so well that it pulls a noise from his throat anyways. Le chuckles a bit.

“Oh and who could forget how hot it was, seeing Gabe and Kat shove you between them. Both of them fucking you open on their fingers, Gabe fucking into you while Kat shoved herself down onto you? God, Pips and I could barely stand it, watching the three of you”

His fingers piston in him harder now, spreading and stretching him with every move, and god, he’s shaking, the pressure so good and rough and he’s close, closest he’s been the whole night.

“And then, when it was our turn? And you hadn’t come but Kat and Gabe had, and he pulled out of you, made a  _ mess _ of you. God, the noise you made when Pips and I pinned you down next. You remember what happened after?”

He does. In achingly vivid memory. Gabe’s come dripping from him, Kat’s kisses seared into his throat, the soothing hands of four people as they wrapped him up in the middle-

“That’s it Chris. And what did we do to you again?” Leland says quietly, before wrapping his lips around his tip and slowly bobbing his way down.

Fuck. 

Le’s fingers fucking into him, slicked by Gabe’s come. Le’s dick following soon after. Pippa’s confident manhandling as she took his dick, slow and steady. Gabe’s hands on his chest, Kat’s mouth on his throat-

Lelands fingers massaging his prostate and bringing tears to his eyes. Lelands mouth bobbing on his dick. Lelands hand cupping and rolling his balls in his other hand and fuck its too much its too much he’s-

He comes. Shatters, really. It’s near enough to what it feels like. His head tosses back with a wail and his fingers scrape along anywhere on Le he can get a hold of. He’s swearing, gasping, crying out with the force of it. It leaves him breathless, limp and useless in the aftermath.

Le pulls off him, gently pulls his fingers free. Chris is too tired to even attempt to hide the noise he makes when the fingers leave him. Watches as Le swallows in one deft gulp. Rises to his feet and tucks him back into his pants. 

‘What a gentleman’

When Le kisses him, it’s soft. Questioning. Careful. Just like the first time he and Le ever kissed, nearly two decades ago.

When he gets back to his room, he finds a message on his personal padd from Kat.

Admr.KCornwell: did you two kiss and make up yet?

He can’t bring himself to answer her until he’s on the brink of sleep. Picks up his padd, answers on a whim.

Cap.CPike: Yeah. We did.

Cap.CPike: and he still kisses me the same way.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm using This prompt for Kinktober, which was shown to me by the wonderful Killermanatee! Give them and their kinktober fics a heck of a lot of love, and feel free to leave me a kudos or comment if you enjoyed!


	13. Face Sitting (Cornwell/Reno)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen. Did i miss kinktober yesterday? Yes. But did I also put out 10k of polyamorous spanking porn yesterday? ALSO yes. (also you can read that here if you like that shit and/or want to see more of it)
> 
> Anyway, enjoy lesbian bickering about the logistics of face sitting and the likelihood of broken necks

“Dammit Princess, for the last time, I’m not made of glass”

“And I never said you were. But I’m gonna break you”

“No you’re not! Don’t think so highly of yourself”

Their argument had started in engineering where the Admiral had come on her regular ‘Local Commanding Asshole does rounds on the ship, greeting people and being nice’ walks. Had gone from lighthearted teasing and muttered sexual innuendo into a full logistical fight by the time they got to the turbolift because this absolute madwoman thought she had some kind of duranium-infused skeleton or some shit.

“Look, I don’t know who you’ve been having sex with, but they’re  _ cowards” _ Reno launched again just before the doors opened to the floor her quarters were on. This plus the flood of people going in as they left shut the Admiral for a few seconds. Just long enough for Reno to tap another nail into the proverbial coffin on this  _ bullshit  _ non-issue. “I’ve had women of all shapes, sizes and genital formations in my bed and/or on my face and let me fucking tell you, unless you plan on breaking out some kind of freaky genital ju-jitsu, or you  _ actively try to kill me, _ you won’t. End of story.”

“I did my time in medical training, Reno. You know how fucking easy it is to sprain a neck?” Cornwell hisses back at her. 

Reno knows at this point argument is like foreplay to her, like it is to every single person in Starfleet, apparently. But this is beyond that: this is about  _ pride. _ About being  _ right. _

But dammit, Reno isn’t a  _ coward. _ And this woman wasn’t a literal giant. Also, not to mention that she was  _ wrong. _

“Counterpoints, princess” she quips back, raising a single finger at her as they turned down another corridor. “You were a  _ counselor, _ not a fucking med kid. Also, I’ve studied up on my medical shit too. I have a roommate in the medical ward, I took the same outdated basic classes that you did, and-” she pauses as they reach her door. Swings around to look the Admiral in the eyes. “I treated someone with a spinal injury during my ten month staycation on that asteroid. Know all about em. And again, unless you literally pile drive your pelvis into my jaw bone -which is probably gonna hurt you more than me- or you are literally going to attempt to somehow drown me -which at that point would be both a compliment  _ and _ impressive-  _ you. Will. not. Hurt. me.”  _ Jett reiterates. Even going so far as to poke that dinky little Admirals badge on her chest to add to her point.

It’s a testament to how much Kat likes their little ‘mutual stress relief’ dates, or maybe to how secretly refreshing Jett is to ultra-serious-command-types like her, but Kat lets her. Even grins a bit at her mini-rant. But Jett doesn’t want her grinning. At least, not this way.

Jett wants her grinning as she manhandles Kat in the bed and out of her clothes. Jett wants her gasping and whispering her pleas for her as Jett bites into her neck, just below where the collar hits so Kat will feel it for days whenever she turns her head. She wants to watch her swing a leg over her head and brace herself on the headboard as she lowers herself Jetts face and comes over and over knowing she’s  _ dead fucking wrong- _

“Fine” Kat says, breaking Jett out of her little reverie, or, if she’s lucky, premonition. “But if I snap your neck, I’m burning your body and then spacing myself so that no one can figure out what happened or try me for your death. My career isn’t ending like that” she adds with a wry curl of a smile.

Jett snorts as she hits the open button on her door. They cross the threshold.

“Fine with me, Princess. But I do disagree with you. ‘Death by pussy’ sounds like a pretty baller legacy to me”

Kat hurls her now discarded jacket at her head for that one, but as far as she’s concerned, it’s one hundred percent worth it. 

“Why do you call me that, anyways?” Kat asks, once clothes have been discarded and she’s meandering her way up Jetts body.

“Sorry to break the diagnosis to you, but you’re a little bit of a pillow princess”

Kat stops her movements entirely while over Jett’s face to stare down at her, mouth open. Damn she looks  _ genuinely  _ a little offended, which is  _ hilarious. _

“I am fucking not!” She gasps, incensed.

“Are too” Jett quips back with a smile.

“I have never been called a pillow princess in my entire life. Not _ once” _ Kat insists, but there’s a little bit of a laugh in her tone. Good. The woman needs to loosen up. She could turn a hunk of coal into a diamond with how tight her ass is sometimes.

“That’s just ‘cuz your past partners weren’t doing it right” Jett teases, grabbing Kat’s waist, slowly pulling her down.

“Oh yeah?” Kat drawls, slowly lowering with the aid of Jetts hands.

“Hell yeah. Anyone’s a princess if you do it right.” she insists. Grins up at Kat through spread legs. “Here, I’ll be a good little scientist for you. Back it up with data, run a little experiment-”

When she’s within reasonable reach, Jett stops to press a kiss just in front of Kat’s already slick opening, darts a tongue out to taste and tease. Grins again at the sharp inhale.

“-And who could forget the golden rule of testing? It’s gotta be under conditions you can run a test under again and again”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm using This prompt for Kinktober, which was shown to me by the wonderful Killermanatee! Give them and their kinktober fics a heck of a lot of love, and feel free to leave me a kudos or comment if you enjoyed!


	14. Femdom/Coaching (Vina/Phil/Una)

“There, just like that” Una croons into her ear. Wraps her arms gently around her small frame to stroke at her skin. “Good”, comes pleased praise, drawn out by the shiver from the body below them.

They’ve been dancing around whatever this is since Vina had left the Asylum Seekers Academy, since she had been placed on board as a special case. Drawn to one another like magnets even when rank and history and duty stood before them. Fucking Chris in the hour they had before being torn apart by duty (her to the Academy, him to his ship) years ago had felt like a clip of paradise, so real and overwhelming she had thought nothing could feel so good. Months ago, flirting with Phil, cautious and afraid only to see him respond back: feel his grin on her throat as he teased her, fingers playing at the skin of her thighs. It had felt like a beginning, an opening to a new horizon of courtship and seduction she wanted to run headlong into. Weeks ago, kissing Una on impulse in the botany labs had felt like such sweet sin, such a forbidden taste. Her hands coming up to her waist, cautious and confused before giving in, pinning Vina to the bench and pressing herself along the whole plane of the front of her body.

Today, Una kneels behind her, molded to her back as she guides her hands, her lips, her action. Under them, Phil lays prone and patient to their explorations and exploits. Lets shivers wrack him and sighs drip from his lips when they do well.

“He’s particularly sensitive to the spot under his jaw” Una whispers conspiratorial into her ear. Pauses to press a kiss to the nook behind Vina’s jaw, making her shiver. She can  _ feel _ the smile it draws from Una. “Just like  _ you” _ Una adds. Pushes on her ribs gently and Vina goes, slowly bending over Phil from where she straddles his hips. 

He smiles up at her, leans his neck to the side for easier access. Heart racing, she presses a gentle kiss up where Una had placed one on her. Gets a small sigh in return. She presses a bit harder, leaving a trail of kisses down his throat before, on impulse, pulling back slightly to look at him. 

Phil shoots her a look of concern before he sees her hand come up beside them. Watches as she thumbs at his pulse point, lashes fluttering at the gentle pressure. She pulls the hand back before sliding her lips back to his throat. Scrapes her teeth along the point where his carotid meets his jaw, and gets a twitch and a stuttered breath in return.

_ “Good”  _ Una praises, sliding two hands down from her ribs to her waist, and she knows they both felt her shiver at the contact.

She sucks soft marks into his skin down the length of his pulse. Hits the base of his neck and pulls the skin between her teeth sucks harder. Wants to see the things she’s doing to him. Phil makes a stuttered, low cry in his throat. Hands that had been purposefully not touching Vina nor Una come up and pull at her thighs with unresolved tension.

She feels Una swoop down: presses herself to Vina’s back again, ducks her head to whisper in her ear, hair falling around her right peripherals like a sleek inky curtain.

“Very good, V”

She shivers again at the praise. Pulls back from Phil’s throat and Una is twisting into the space she now had to nip at Vina’s own throat. She makes a cry, soft but there, and has no time to feel self conscious before Phil is leaning up and pressing his lips to the other side and even just that is so much to process. So much to feel and so many points of contact. She went so long without  _ anyone _ and now, suddenly, she’s being pressed between two warm bodies that want her, that want to  _ do things _ to her, who want her to  _ do things _ to  _ them. _ The simple contact is such a rich sweetness.

Una pulls back a bit.

“You want to learn how to fuck him proper?” She whispers lowly. Swipes a hand around Vina’s hip. “I’ll guide you through the whole thing, make you both feel so good”

Well fuck, when she puts it that way.

Vina is nodding before she realizes it, and Una laughs into her ear. “Let’s move things a little bit further back, shall we?”

She peels both of them away from Phil, much to her regret, but he doesn’t seem to mind too much. Pupils blown wide, watching them with rapt attention, hands stroking any skin he can reach.

Una pulls her back just a bit, so she’s sat on Phils thighs and Una is kneeling behind her. Slides her right hand down Vina’s arm until it grasps Vina’s own. 

“Now V, you follow my lead, and you watch Phil’s face, ok?” she murmurs, and Vina nods, hazy. Watches as Una leads her hand to the front of Phils underwear, helps pull it down far halfway down his thighs so that his half-hard dick is freed. Una’s left hand comes over and it almost spooks her out of her trance, and Una laughs good-naturedly into her ear.

“Now,” she says. Flips her right hand over and pours a bit of lube into her open palm. Twists her hand around hers so it spreads across her hand. “I’m gonna set the strength of your grip, and start you off slow. You’re gonna watch Phil’s face, and see what he likes, ok?” Vina nods. “Good” Una says again, kissing her cheek. “We take this nice and slow”

Her hand is guided to wrap around Phil’s dick, and she watches his lashes flutter, soft breath leave parted lips.

Una sets a slow pace: working their combined hands up from the base, up to the tip of his dick, fingers swirling just around the bottom of the head before working back down. Phil’s hips shudder a bit with each thrust. His breath picks up, his half hard dick slowly coming more and more to attention.

_ ‘This is good’  _ she thinks, watching Phil’s chest shudder. _ ‘But we can do more’ _

Recalling how Chris shuddered and twitched when they had hooked up years ago, how he had stroked himself to readiness before pushing into her, she makes a split second choice.

On the next slide up to the tip of his dick, she gives a quick, gentle swipe of her thumb up from the underside of the head and over the tip before shoving their hands down just a bit faster.

Phil gasps, hips jerking and head pushing back. The sight sends a pulse between her own legs that leaves her dizzy with desire.

“Shit, V” Una laughs through disbelief. “Where the hell did you learn to do  _ that _ , because I sure as hell didn’t teach you”

She shrugs, smile pulling at her lips for being right. Does it again on the next stroke just to hear Phil whimper, press into her hand harder. “Lucky guess”

Una hums a disbelieving noise into her throat, but lets it lie for the moment. “I think he’s ready doll. Now, we get  _ you _ ready.”

Vina turns to bite back something about how wet she is, how  _ very much ready she is, thank you very much, _ but it’s cut off when Una continues.

“Now, you’re gonna ask Phil to get you ready. You’re gonna tell him what feels good and what doesn’t, and I’m gonna be right here the whole time, ok?” 

Her pulse quickens. She nods. Glances to Phil, who’s watching her with rapt attention.

“Please, just” she stutters. Una slides soothing hands down her sides, kisses her neck. She relaxes back into the gesture. “Please get me ready for you” She manages, blushing. Somehow asking for it was so much more embarrassing than actually  _ doing it. _

Phil smiles. “With pleasure” he drawls. Pulls her up just a bit to reach her better, with the aid of Una. Gathers slick from Una’s hands and moves his hand between her legs just as Una mouths at her pulse and-

She makes a whimper in her throat as fingertips graze her clit. Hips buck into his hand of their own accord, too mindless to do anything but. He laughs, pushes further. Traces slick fingers over her opening, her rim, back over her clit leaving her slick and trembling. She whimpers the whole time, trying to stay quiet, trying to bite back the cries-

“What did we talk about V?” Una whispers into her ear.  _ “Communicate” _

“Phil, fuck me,  _ please” _ she bites out. Phil grins. Fingertips press down the length of her clit as he makes his way back down and had Una not grabbed her hands, she probably would have shoved them between her own legs by now. 

He teases her opening before slowly, carefully, sliding a finger in and  _ curling. _

A strangled noise leaves her throat. His fingers can hit the exact right angle that hers never could and it’s so good, pools such a nice heat at the base of her spine. But it’s not enough, not  _ nearly _ enough.

“I’m not as fragile as you think” she gasps through another curl. “I can take another, just,” stutters on an ending to her phrase. She’s supposed to be in charge here, she doesn’t want to ask for permission. “For  _ fucks sake” _ she finally settles.

Phil huffs a small laugh, looks to Una over her shoulder. “You’re creating a monster”

“Mm, I know” Una purrs into her neck. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

“What happens when she turns that assertiveness on  _ you,  _ I wonder” Phil muses, sliding a second finger into her and making her burn with want, gasp with the curl.

“Less talking, more fucking” Vina cuts in. “I’d like to fuck you like, now”

Phil hesitates for a moment. “V, you just got two fingers in and you’re not used to-”

“My second ever purchase with the credit allowance I was given at the Asylum Seekers Academy was for a vibrator” she pants. “The first, if you’re curious, was for an overpriced coffee. Which was a mistake because now I have a caffeine addiction,and I’m growing my own hybrid trees so that I can make my own instead of having shitty replicator coffee, but that’s not the point” she rants, feeling them both huff soft laughs at her spinning out of control. “I don’t know much, but I know enough to know it’s fine” she pleads.

Una and Phil trade a look.

“The stretch is still gonna be-” Una tries

_ “Perfect” _ Vina finishes for her. Grinds her hips down on Phil’s fingers to enunciate her point. “You wanted communication. This whole thing is a lesson in being assertive, right? I’m communicating, I’m being assertive.” Turns her head to look Phil dead in the eyes. “Now, will you let me fuck you?”

He visibly shivers, which sends a pulse of  _ something _ through her at seeing him bed to her will. Watches his lips part as he looks to Una, then back at her. Nods.

Una pulls her back just a tad. 

“Jesus, V” she mutters. “I really  _ have _ created a monster”

“I’ll  _ definitely _ not be happy if you two leave me hanging, but ‘monster’ is a bit extreme” Vina manages to quip as she watches Phil and Una lining her body up to his.

“Take it slow, if you need to stop-” Una whispers.

“I will, and I’ll tell you” she whispers back. Manages a quick tilt of her head to brush her lips to Una’s cheek. Just barely catches the blush before her hips start working down and her head throws back.

Fuck, it’s  _ good.  _

The head of his cock spears her open, and she hisses at the stretch. Waves off their concern as she slowly circles her hips as she works down and down, further and further. God, he’s bigger than her toys. Longer, with a devastating curve to it that she  _ knows _ is gonna grind into her exactly how she needs it. After what feels like a millenia, their hips are flush together.

It’s like the air is knocked from her lungs. She falls forward just a bit, panting, grasping hands on his sternum as she adjusts. Curiously grinds her hips in a circle and nearly chokes on her gasp. 

Fuck, he hits her  _ exaclty _ where she needs it.

A flood of sensations hits her brain:  _ ‘ Full, stretched, turned on, aching, good, good, fuck’ _ stuck in her head on loop. 

She’s pulled out of her thoughts by Una cursing. She zones back in.

She’s been grinding her hips into Phil’s for god knows how long while she was caught up in her own head; hadn’t even realized she was doing it. He’s panting, grasping at her hips and whimpering and writhing. And fuck if the sight of it doesn’t send a pulse of arousal, of  _ power _ through her.

She leans forward, changing his angle and causing them both to hiss with it. Una stays plastered to her back, seemingly holding on out of instinct.

She presses more kisses to Phil’s throat, bites just under his jaw so she  _ knows _ it’ll be visible over his collar. Phil seems to realize it too. Whimpers as he bares his throat for her to do it again.

She grins.

“I think” she draws, presses another kiss. “That I’d like to watch your face when you come for me.” Another bite, another whimper. “And when you’ve gotten me off…” pulls off his throat with a pull before turning her head a bit towards Una. “You can help me make Una scream for us”

Una’s hands twitch at her waist as her breath shakes. Phil cries out a small  _ “god” _ as his hips twitch under hers.

“God V, you’re gonna be the death of us” Una mutters into her neck.

“If you’re lucky” she quips back with a laugh. Grinds her hips harder, and listens to the sound of Phil gasp on a plea for her.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm using This prompt for Kinktober, which was shown to me by the wonderful Killermanatee! Give them and their kinktober fics a heck of a lot of love, and feel free to leave me a kudos or comment if you enjoyed!


	15. Clothing Theft (Pike/Burnham)

He’s midway through a casual read of the reports he’s gonna need to go over later when he catches movement out of the corner of his eye.

“Up already?” he calls gently, turning away to rest his drink on the table. “Didn’t mean to wake you?”

“You didn’t wake me. It’s force of habit” Michael calls back from the bathroom. The sink starts to run in the background. “Tilly is a morning person and also forgets how to Not Be Loud”

He snorts. Sounds like Tilly alright. He turns towards the sound of her voice.

“Even so, if I-” and the words die on his lips.

Michael is walking out of the bathroom with a towel to her face, patting it dry. She’s wearing his shirt. An old, cotton grey shirt that he had genuinely forgotten he owned, had only really brought with him on Discovery as a spare sleeping shirt. It pools loosely around her upper arms down to her elbows. The loose collar of it exposing a collarbone and the love bites he had sucked into her skin just hours prior. The bottom of the fabric that would normally hit him at his hips is down to the tops of her thighs. Fuck, is she even wearing underwear under that shirt?

She’s practically  _ swimming _ in the fabric of it, and he’s once again reminded of just how  _ small _ she is compared to him. Often forgets it due to how stubborn and strong she is (strong enough to flip him onto his back on training mats and beds alike, at least). But god, to see her like this, in his clothes, walking around his room like she belongs there?

_ ‘Fuck, maybe she does’ _

She looks up at him from the towel, bare faced and disheveled, and that sends another rush of  _ something _ through him. Domesticity? Intimacy? Arousal?

“Even so…?” Michael prompts. Looks at him like he’s lost his damn mind. 

Maybe he has, because he can’t remember whatever the hell he was gonna say anyways.

“You look good” tumbles out of his mouth.

_ ‘Forty four years to hone your charm, and that’s the best you got, Chris?’ _

Michael glances down. Seems to get a bit embarrassed. “Well, I mean.” She starts, waving the towelled hand around vaguely. “This  _ was _ in the drawer you said I could keep spare clothes in” 

“Good” he manages. Shakes his head. “Good, like, this is a good look for you” he finishes lamely.

A smile slowly takes over her face, and oh does he  _ love _ to see that smile. Loves her laugh too. If he’s lucky, on a good day he can get both and he feels like he’s won a million credits.

“So you’ve said” she says warmly. Drops the towel over on the table and saunters to him. When she gets within the last few, her arms raise and open up for him to slot himself within. The shirt’s hem rises with the action.

It looks like this may be his lucky day.

Her kiss is warm, lips soft and inviting. When she pulls him into a kiss like this she almost always threads one hand through his hair, runs her fingernails at his scalp. She also hugs  _ the best: _ she presses her whole body up to whoever she’s hugging, like she wants to mould herself to them and share all that warmth she has in her heart through the simple contact alone. It warms his chest like hardly anything else does, so he privately thinks her tactic is working.

When their lips part, she laughs breathily against his cheek, rubs her palms down his arms. He  _ has _ to sweep her off her feet then, he just  _ has _ to. He leans down and grabs the backs of her thighs before pulling her up in one sweeping motion. She yelps, before wrapping her legs around his waist and giggling into his neck.  _ This.  _ This is one of the heights of simple luxury. His favorite perk of having the physical requirements of the job he does. What’s the point in working out as often as he does if he  _ can’t _ pick up beautiful people and swing them around a bit, fraternization rules be damned.

Michael laughs and smiles the whole way back to his sleeping alcove. Makes an indignant little laugh as he drops her on the bed before crawling over to lay between her legs. Kisses her again just to feel that smile pressed to his lips. She pulls him in further, lets him press kisses all down her neck.

“I don’t have to tell you this is illogical, right?” she quips wryly. “What is it about me in your shirt that would somehow make me more attractive to you?”

He laughs. “Don’t hit me for saying this, but you sound like your brother right now”

She hits his shoulder anyway, and he scoffs into her neck with a soft ‘hey!’

“So, what? Did you happen to seduce my brother and have this exact scenario happen, or can you just not handle our family charm?”

He momentarily freezes when she says the first part.  _ ‘Seduce my brother too?’ _ rings in his ears even as he realizes she’s joking. Tries to cover his tracks and relax.

No such luck: she picked up on it.

_ “You fucked my brother?!” _

All things considered, she’s taking it fairly well. Hasn’t slapped him, hasn’t kicked him. Yet.

“Ok, listen-”

“You DID!” she squeaks. Pulls back to look him in the face. She doesn’t look mad so much as… confused? Startled? All valid things. If someone he was sleeping with told him they fucked his own adopted sister, he would… not react as well as her.

“Ok look. It was one time and-” he cant even get through his soft-serving of the ‘Enterprise’s Sex Pollen Infection-Fueled Bridge Orgy’ before her head is in her hands. Fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck  _ fuck- _

“Michael, I-”

She  _ bursts out laughing. _ Just, hysterical, unchained laughter that he has  _ never _ heard from her before. Her head flies back, wide as hell grin as she’s just losing her  _ shit _ laughing.

His brain stalls out. Is this… ok? Is he gonna die? Has she snapped and soon is gonna be chasing his shirtless and shoeless ass down the hall with a knife? What’s happening?

Michael manages to choke words out, finally.

“You- what do you  _ mean _ you fucked both of us?” she wheezes out.

He can’t think of anything to say besides the truth.

“OK, there was sex pollen, and we were on lockdown, and it got to the bridge and we all just-”

“You had an  _ orgy  _ on the _ bridge  _ of the  _ Flagship of the Fleet?!” _ She all but shrieks in a peal of laughter, and that’s  _ it. _

He busts out laughing with her. Just, ten out of ten  _ loses it. _ Wheezing squeaks and giggles as Michael shakes and falls back onto the bed. This whole situation is just ridiculous.

“Wh- why-” Michael gasps. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?!”

“Oh yeah, that would have been a  _ great _ introduction!” He shoots back through his own laughs. “Hi, I’m Captain Christopher Pike, in charge of the safety of your brother and now also you. By the way, did you know your brother and I were in an orgy together?” She shrieks again in laughter and covers her face. 

Michael manages to gather herself after a few moments, marginally. “I- I cannot  _ fucking believe _ this whole situation” she laughs. Pulls him in and just cuddles him as he laughs through his own chuckles.

“If it makes you feel better, we on the bridge vowed to never speak of it, so-” 

Michael waves him off. “It’s, look.” Grabs his face gently. “It was in the past, it was under... “ she struggles for words.

“Fucking  _ bonkers _ circumstances?” he supplies, still feeling remorse.

“Fucking bonkers circumstances” she nods. “Look, if you were  _ actively _ doing… that, it would be a different story. He’s probably not gonna be happy about this, but weirder has happened. Hell, we  _ both  _ fucked my last two Captains, considering what you’ve told me about the Academy for you all. This isn’t  _ the wildest thing _ I’ve heard this week”

“Well-”

“Technically not my  _ last _ Captain because he wasn’t from this universe, yes I  _ know,” _ Michael groans. “You know what I  _ intended _ to mean”

“Yes I did” he concedes. Though he still feels remorse sitting like a stone in his chest. He couldn’t have told her before, but still-”

She breaks him out of his thoughts by tugging his hair. He looks up. She kisses him, slipping her tongue past his lips and he is helpless but to let her take the lead. She pushes him down. Breaks the kiss and slings one leg over his lap to straddle him.

“Stop thinking” she orders. “I said it’s fine, and you couldn’t have said anything anyways. If he were here -which would be a nightmare for  _ so many reasons- _ he would say the same thing.” She leans over him. Now would you get out of your pity party? I’m in your lap and nearly naked”

He feels himself grin. “Yes ma’am”

Michael snorts out a laugh. Leans down and kisses under his ear, down his neck. Mumbles something into his collarbone he can’t quite hear.

“What was that, babe?” he asks her.

“I said: Just don’t go trying to seduce our parents”

Chris feels himself laugh. “I dunno, Amanda seems like-”

“Sarek would  _ murder  _ you, and your death would be ruled as a justified killing by Vulcan law” she warns him, but he can feel her smile on his skin.

“Bold of you to assume I couldn’t or  _ wouldn’t _ seduce the pair of them” he shoots back. She, justifiably, smacks his chest lightly.

“Would you stop conspiring about sleeping your way through the entirety of the S’chn T’Gai household and  _ actually  _ try putting your money where your mouth is?” She sasses him. Leans back to give him the full view of her: shirk rucked up around her hips and spread legs, shirt hanging off her, eyebrows raised and a grin on her lips. 

He grins. At the view, at the sass, at the unofficial order to fuck her already. 

“Yes ma’am”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm using This prompt for Kinktober, which was shown to me by the wonderful Killermanatee! Give them and their kinktober fics a heck of a lot of love, and feel free to leave me a kudos or comment if you enjoyed!
> 
> Also if you're worried abt the content of this, let me reiterate: They Are Fine. This situation is funny to both of them, and at no point did Pike think to himself "I am actively harming either of them". Pike didn't say anything bc he wasn't about to violate Spocks privacy like that, and Michael probably wouldn't want to know either. Also after this, Spock and Michael had a good laugh about how they both banged the same Captain and it's funny to everyone involved.


	16. Drunk Sex (Bryce/Rhys)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this while not sober and also emotionally compromised. Its called getting into character (I say as it's definitely not)

Ronnie is really fucking warm. And Gen is  _ decidedly _ not sober.

Ronnie is also really fuckng strong, if the way he’s holding his tipsy ass to the wall is any indication. And he’s a good kisser. And, just, god, it’s so nice to fucking to get the hell kissed out of him. To get manhandled up to the wall and felt up like he’s some young and dumb academy cadet trying about to melt into the first warm body who wants him.

Ronnie makes a noise into his mouth, some pleased hum as he grabs Gen’s arms and pulls even closer. 

Shit, he’s been rutting up into him for who knows how long and hadn’t even noticed.

In a flash, he’s pushing Ronnie’s shoulder, spinning them around giving him his turn to get all manhandled. Goes in for another kiss when he starts to giggle and shove at Gen.

“G, G we’re in the hallway” he laughs tipsily. “Literally like,  _ anyone _ could see us”

“So?” Gen returns with a laugh. God, he couldn’t give two fucks, he’s too buzzed to care. “Dude, Deets and Owo were practically on top of each other the whole night back at the party. We’re fine”. He peppers kisses down Ronnie’s throat to enunciate the point, earning him a shiver. Ronnie chuckles, suddenly.

“You know, I saw Deets grabbing Nilsson’s ass when they were all talking with Nhan” 

Gen stops his kisses to pull back. 

“Holy shit,  _ really?” _ He can’t believe it. Well, he can, but still.

“Yeah” Ronnie laughs. Leans in close, pulling Gen in by the hips until they’re a hair's breadth away from kissing.

“Methinks a certain someones are having a ménage à trois” Ronnie whispers conspiratorially. 

Gen busts out into hopeless giggles. Leans his head in on Ronnie’s chest as he falls, and Ronnie laughs along with him, happily and carefree.

“Good night, boys?” a voice calls from a few feet down the hall. Gen looks up. 

It’s Tilly, walking with Michael and the Captain. Pike has a drink in his hand, looking away from Michael to nod to them, a friendly grin on his face. Michael is without her jacket, looking for all intents and purposes tipsy and  _ very _ happy about it. Tilly smiles at them, balancing two drinks and what Gen assumes is Michael’s jacket in her arms.

“Yeah, good party. Yourselves?” Ronnie answers for him amidst his laughter.

_ “Very _ good” Michael answers with a smile, which prompts a fond shake of the head from Pike as Tilly explains: “We got her tipsy”

Gen feels his eyebrows raise and lips move before he even thinks to stop them. “You  _ did?  _ Holy Shit” And then remembers, you know, that he’s talking to  _ The Captain. _ “Uh, I mean”

Pike laughs, waves a hand. “We’re off duty, and I’ve heard swears before. You’re fine” he says, before placing a steadying hand on Michael as she sways just a bit. “And we didn’t make her do anything she didn’t want to, simply just gave her some good drinking company”

“-Aaaand speaking of company” Tilly cuts in, raising a hand to gesture at him and Ronnie. “We’ll take our leave now. Gotta get home and hang around talking while we all sober up before shift”

He doesn’t quite remember how they said goodbye, just the silhouettes of them leaving and Ronnie dragging him down the hall opposite of their path. Stumbling into his room and Ronnie pressing him up against the wall just next to the doors. Ronnie’s tongue slipping into his mouth as he whimpers and grinds into him. Him pushing Ronnie down onto the bed, pulling at clothes, scraping fingernails down his bare chest  _ -when did he lose his shirt??- _ and feeling the heat of his skin.

Ronnie mumbles something into his neck as he pulls at both of their pants. Something Gen can’t quite hear.

“What’d you say, R.A?” he quips. Ronnie pulls back.

“Said I can’t wait to see who can’t look at who tomorrow morning”

Gen cracks up. Helps Ronnie shove his pants down, hisses when he slots his hand around his dick with ease.

“My bets on the drunken wonder trio we encountered on the way home” he manages to gasp. Ronnie snorts a disbelieving laugh. 

“You think the Captain is really gonna fuck  _ roommates, _ let alone the sister of his Lieutenant and an Ensign?” he questions. Gen shrugs.

“I think  _ they _ are really gonna  _ try _ to fuck  _ him” _ Gen corrects. “Whether or not he thinks he can handle one let alone both of those chaotic bastards is Pike’s problem”

Ronnie’s ensuing laughter as he’s pressed under him is easily sweeter than all of the fruity and exotic drinks he’d swallowed down that night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm using This prompt for Kinktober, which was shown to me by the wonderful Killermanatee! Give them and their kinktober fics a heck of a lot of love, and feel free to leave me a kudos or comment if you enjoyed!


	17. Suspension (of sorts) (Nhan/Nilsson)

As interruptions go, this is arguably the best possible one they could have had.

She and Nhan had been dancing around this for far too long. Witty jokes across mess hall tables, training sessions that somehow always became wrestling matches on the floor (which in of themselves usually ended with breathing in the same lungfuls of air as they laid tantalizingly close), all the looks shared across the bridge when one caught the other looking.

Nhan had called her beautiful that morning. Handed her a flower that she  _ definitely _ stole from the botany labs and asked to share dinner with her in her temporary quarters that night.

They never ate dinner.

Instead, Nilsson found herself pinned under the length of Nhan’s warm body against the wall, the desk, finally the bed. Found herself grinning and giggling as Nhan’s tongue traced her bicep tattoo, as her fingers found Nhan’s pierced nipples and she sighed under her hands. Found herself watching with rapt attention as Nhan wiggled herself into a strap on, slicked it and pinned her to the bed-

And then, inexplicably, found herself six feet off the fucking bed.

Apparently, internal gravity had failed. Because of  _ course _ it had. 

Pike’s voice had come on the speakers, half laughing and accompanied by what she assumed were the sounds of him grappling at the conn to remain seated. Had promised that the gravity would be back online soon and also not switched on without a proper warning, “Lest sickbay be overrun with concussed scientists who were just trying to eat their dinner”.

She wanted to be mad, she really did. First time she’s gotten laid in far too long, and the gravity fails? Just her luck. Unfortunately, it’s very hard to be mad when you’re butt naked and floating around you own room trying to grasp the blanket that’s determined to wander from you. That, and also, having a partner that  _ refuses _ to take things even mildly seriously.

Nhan had busted out laughing at the whole situation. And the sight of a gorgeous woman laughing her head off, wearing nothing but a strap on as she helplessly floated away from her? Fuck, it left Nilsson  _ no choice _ but to follow her down the rabbit hole into uncontrollable giggles. Long since having been separated from her, her partner gently bounces herself off the ceiling.

“Lighten up, blondie!” Nhan calls through her giggles. “How many times do you get to say you had sex in zero G?”

“Babe you were barely in me before the gravity failed. Does that even  _ count? _ ” she laughs back. Bumps gently into the wall before going for the blanket floating a few feet from her. “I don’t even think you can get to me  _ to _ have sex”

“No, no, I  _ totally can” _ Nhan assures her. “Look, here I go!” 

Nilsson looks, just in time to watch Nhan push herself off the wall with her feet before doing a  _ very distinguished _ and dramatic somersault in the air.

_ “Weeeeeeeee!” _ Nhan wheezes out as she tumbles, still glistening strap on shining in the overhead lights, and that’s  _ it. _

The noise Nilsson feels herself make is one she didn’t even know she fucking  _ could. _ Her head tosses back as she all but shrieks with laughter. She hears Nhan cracking up somewhere vaguely to her right but she can’t be bothered to look, can’t open her eyes, is giggling too hard to breathe, let alone open her eyes. She clocks the vague sound of something getting moved on her desk -maybe her poor spider plant?- before she feels arms wrap around her side.

“Got you” Nhan laughs into her ear as they both tumble and roll. They bonk into the wall over the bed as they laugh, tease one another. Occasionally make a small joking ‘weeee!’ before falling back into hysterics.

Nhan tucks her head into her throat as she shakes. When Nilsson finally manages to catch her breath after one last ungraceful snort, she nuzzles her head into the top of Nhans. She feels her smile in response. Starts pressing kisses into her the hollow of her shoulder. She hums, strokes a hand down Nhan’s naked back in response. The gentle kisses become firmer, a hand tightens on her hip, another slides up her flank, achingly slow and soft.

It’s incredibly hard to fuck in zero G, apparently, but within a few minutes Nilsson manages to hook her legs around Nhan, reasonably sure she won’t float away. Nhan grabs one hand just in case, uses the other to guide the toy back inside her and, shit, yeah, this is what she wanted. What she  _ needed. _

Nhan presses close, closer than they were on the bed out of necessity to stay together. Grabs her hands and holds them as she kisses her throat, her face, anywhere she can reach. Nilsson puts her free hand on Nhan’s back, scratches her nails down it when Nhan manages short but sweet thrusts that hit her exactly where she needs them to, when she twists their hips so the head of it grinds into her all slow and overwhelming. She’s gasping, writhing, begging. Floating like this leaves them uniquely desensitized: they cling to one another, no clothes or weight or sheets to distract from the sensations of warm skin on warm skin. They’re breathing in the same few inches of air, falling and flying and Nilsson can feel it when Nhan skirts a firm but quick hand down her stomach to press between her legs. It still doesn’t prepare her for when she pushes two firm fingers to frame her clit and immediately gives her rough, fast circles that steal her breath away and pull hopeless noises from her lips.

When she comes, it’s with Nhan’s soft little self-satisfied laugh echoing in her ear, her own louder cries a backdrop for such a sweet noise.

She catches her breath as Nhan pecks her all over her face. Disengages gently, but holds onto her still. They float for a few moments in a pleasant quiet.

“Attention all crew, this is Commander Saru” breaks the silence. They both look up from their reverie, only to realize they’re actually looking  _ down _ onto the floor somehow above their heads.

“The ship’s gravity is anticipated to be restored within the next half an hour. There will be a five minute warning to get yourselves rightened and in a safe position-” Nhan snorts into her ear. “-before it is put back online. Please begin making preparations now. Saru out”

_ “Safe position” _ Nhan mumbles.

“Yeah, this looks perfectly safe to me” she returns back, mock seriously. Nhan giggles. “We’d better hurry up and get you off then, honey” she continues, pressing a kiss to the underside of her ear. Her hand snakes down to help free Nhan from the straps wrapped around her hips.

“You know we can wait until this is over, right?” Nhan quips quietly, kissing her through a small smile. “I feel like that would make this easier?”

“When has something easy been something  _ fun?” _ Nilsson retorts back. “Besides babe,” she drawls as the straps around Nhan come undone. She chucks the strap on somewhere behind her, listens to the laugh it pulls from Nhan when it bounces off the wall next to them.

“I thought it was you who asked, ‘How many times can you say you had sex in zero g?’”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm using This prompt for Kinktober, which was shown to me by the wonderful Killermanatee! Give them and their kinktober fics a heck of a lot of love, and feel free to leave me a kudos or comment if you enjoyed!


	18. Sex Toys (Number One/Boyce/Pike)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> got a lot to do tomorrow, was running late a few updates ago, finished this early.
> 
> Have at thee, goblins. Double update today, none tomorrow. 19 should be up on that date? Hopefully? who knows lol

Coming back from the away mission was harrowing enough, Chris stumbling and laughing behind him about their latest installment of their ‘kidnapping and near death’ series. But when the laughter died on Chris’s lips, and Phil watched his face go from adrenaline fueled giddiness to one of  _ ‘oh shit, I’m a dead man’?  _ When Phil himself turned and found their Number One standing at the transporter room’s door. Spine perfectly straight, chin angled down, glaring at them with nothing but hard retribution in her eyes? Fuck, the adrenaline from their kidnapping and ensuing escape had nothing on the spike that shot through him then.

She tilted her head, an implicit order to the both of them to follow. She walked them into the lift, up the levels to the floor of her quarters, marched them down the hall with an air of authority that even Chris couldn’t hope to match. Always two steps ahead, never looking back, never speaking. Anticipation built in his blood. He couldn’t even risk a glance at Chris, lest he see the same in his eyes. They reached her quarters, trailed in behind her. Heard the doors slide shut as she commanded them to lock to her commands only, heard the echoes of the bolts clamping in place, the cold command in her voice.

_ “Kneel” _ she had ordered then, rolled off her tongue with an edge to the ‘e’ that only gave him shivers. When her Illryian accent shone through, it only meant danger. They followed her request. Chris had bent his head to look to the floor. She paced around them, unzipped her coat just a tad, the only sound in the room besides their breathing. Minutes passed in tense silence.

She walked to them, plucked their badges from their chests and tossed them on the table just to have the sharp sounds of metal on glass make them jump. It worked. 

“Color system” she said simply, not a question. “You know your words?”

He nodded, could see Chris nodding next to him out of the corner of his eye. Una hummed.

“You will undress, walk to the bed, and each lay down next to one another” she ordered, a firm calm through an exhaled breath, as though she were annoyed at the very fact she had to punish them. “Hands above your heads, eyes closed. Do  _ not  _ disobey” she warned.

Phil got to work on his collar, shucking off the singed and dirty jacket before pulling at his shirt. Rose to unclasp his pants, boots, adding them to the pile in a haste to comply. By the time he was naked, he started to turn to glance at-

“No” Una said simply, firmly. 

He turned his head away. Walked towards the bed. Sat down just as the sound of movement approached on the other side. Laid and closed his eyes, hands up to the headboard. Felt the heat of Chris pressing close to him as he laid with him. Felt the shaky inhale before the firm exhale. 

Moments of quiet. Moments of hearing Una pull her boots off so she would pad around the room even quieter. Shuffling of boxes under the bed, of things being laid out and put back.

The boxes slowly push back under the bed, and his pulse jumps. Fear and arousal spin in his veins, intoxicating him even further.

_ ‘I'd suffer Hell if you'd tell me, what you'd do to me tonight’ _ comes to his mind, unbidden. Words of a song he has long since forgotten the name of, long since forgotten the rest of save for the mere fact that it reminded him of her.

There’s a soft pop: the sound of a cap being flicked off. Chris’s leg twitches next to him. The bed dips on his other side, and he feels the fabric of what he assumes is her knee.

“Which one of you was it that thought to radio Enterprise?” she asks. “You know, before you decided to stage a jailbreak and run  _ headlong _ into a  _ desert?”  _

That had been his idea, fortunately or not. 

“Mine, sir” he admits quietly.

She laughs quietly, a worrisome thing at a moment like this. Strokes his cheek with the back of one hand, and it takes everything in him not to lean into her touch.

“Smart  _ and _ respectful” she muses.

In a flash, she’s on the bed and over one leg. He barely gets a second to gasp before she’s shoving the other up and bent at his waist. Leans over him, supporting herself with one arm as she hovers an aching few inches from his skin, her heat tantalizingly close.

She presses slick fingers to his rim, hard enough to tease, not enough to push in. Rolls them around it. Dips the pads of her fingers against him just to hear his lungs trip on a breath. Beside him, Chris is taking slow, purposeful breaths. Trying to remain calm. Keep the shivers coursing through him at bay.

He’s better than him, who’s currently stuttering vague noises, pleas maybe, and trying to stop his hips from jerking every which way. His dick, which had only been a bit interested in the whole affair, is rapidly deciding to show up for the event. His hands claw at each wrist as he tries desperately to not shove a hand down to wrap around himself. He prays she doesn’t notice-

“Don’t worry baby,” she interjects smoothly, spearing him open on a finger. “I’ll tie those hands up soon enough for you”

Fuck, there goes that hope.

Within minutes she’s up to two fingers, three. Pulls away and has him whimpering to the sounds of more lube. Whimpers harder when the head of a toy presses into his rim. Slow, hard, with the burn of a stretch that’s just this side of pleasurable, it pushes in. Normally she would be petting down his chest, cooing at him with a soft smile, kissing him. Now, she’s out of reach and out of sight. He can  _ feel _ her eyes on him though, watching him get speared open on the toy.

It bottoms out just as the curved head brushes into his prostate. She lets it go, and the head of it presses into him  _ firmly. _

_ ‘Jesus fuck, she’s gonna killl me’ _

He’s panting and squirming when she straddles his chest, loops his hands into a set of wider banded cuffs before promptly hopping off him. He tests them. Yup. Looped to the headboard.

“Now, onto  _ you” _ Una stage whispers from the other side of the bed. There’s something dark in her tone as it rolls off her tongue. Chris’s inhale sends a spike of arousal through Phil. God, what does she have planned for him, if _ this  _ is  _ mercy? _

He can feel her shove at Chris’s legs. He can’t see to be sure, but from the quick pants of Chris’s breath, his barely stifled whimpers, he’s guessing she fucks him  _ much  _ faster than she did Phil. And god, the sounds of her fucking Chris open keep making him shiver, keep making him twitch on the bed and it only twitches the toy inside him bit by bit, makes him twitch more. He can’t come from just this, not so soon, and she  _ knows it. _

“Fuck,  _ fuck-” _ Chris whimpers, barely audible.

_ ‘God, she’s pressing a toy in him’ _

“Yeah, it’s a little bigger than you were expecting, huh?” Una taunts lightly. _ “What’re you gonna do about it?” _

Apparently, he’s gonna toss his head back and whimper as the toy bottoms out in him, and fuck, Phil  _ knows _ that whimper. His is curved right up into him like Phil’s is. He can feel his dick leak at the mental image alone.

Una puts Chris into cuffs too, by the sounds of it, before her presence leaves the bed. The zippers and shuffling of clothing sound off in the quiet room amid their pants and small noises.

Then, other noises. Lube, again. The shuffling of other things. Shaky breaths coming from somewhere to his left. Fuck, she’s touching herself. She’s touching herself and he isn’t allowed to even  _ look.  _ Whole minutes pass of listening to it. Listening to her gasp and pant and bite small noises as she fucks herself. It’s agony. Agony for him, definitely agony for Chris, who’s one of the most tactile lovers Phil has ever  _ had. _ God, his dick is aching and he feels vulnerable and exposed and desperate-

The bed shifts. Una crawls over them again; straddles one of each of their legs, shoves a pillow from the couch over them and under her. Makes a small noise along with a soft wet noise as she no doubt touches herself again. Shifts on her legs and then-

The toy inside him springs to life, vibrating into his prostate softly.

His hips jerk. A startled noise leaves his throat as he writhes. Next to him, Chris gasps and barely bites back a moan. The leg pinned under Una and plastered next to his twitches.

“Eyes on me, boys” Una pants out.

He opens his eyes. 

_ Jesus fuck _

Una is kneeling over their legs, tall and much more put together than Phil could hope to look or feel. And in one of her hands is possibly the hottest thing he’s ever seen in his life. 

A new toy, or at least, one he’s never seen before. Dark blue and wide. Two heads ot two traditional looking dildos, the bottom of the toy between her fingers curved and slim like the rest of the toy, so it’s one curved shape. Both heads of the toy are parallel to one another and curving up in the same direction. One is thinner, longer. The one in front of it wider, ribbed just a bit. It takes him a second to realize, to process.

Chris gets there first, if the quiet ‘oh  _ hell’ _ is anything to go by.

“Now,” Una says, still commanding, but with a breathy edge to it. “I’m gonna get off on this, on watching you two lie there, begging for it. And I’m gonna get myself off as many fucking times as I want, and I’m gonna do  _ whatever I fucking want _ to either of you. Either of you come before I say so, and I kick you out of the bed and the other doesn’t get to finish. We clear?”

Phil can’t breathe. Just nods. Chris must nod as well, because she smiles, small and devilish. Rises up higher and bends to put the toy under her, holds the base as she sinks down slow.

She tips her head back and lets out a small cry as the first head makes contact, the thinner and longer one pressing into her rim. His dick pulses as she pushes herself down on it further, watches as she fucks herself back up on it just to press down and take more on the next thrust. Chris makes a high noise in his throat, hips twitching as she cries out a soft  _ ‘ah!’  _ just to tease them further. The vibrator is pulsing in him and only making it worse. 

When she sinks far enough that the head of the second one makes contact with her opening, she swears. The head of his dick leaks harder in response: a fat glob of it that slowly drips down the head of his dick and makes him whimper.

Like that, his vibrator is switched off, and he swears. Chris makes a whine that honest to god sends a pang of pity through Phil in response.

Una merely huffs a small laugh.

“Those are the rules, Dimples” she teases. Bites her own comment off with a longer, quiet moan as the toy presses her open even further.

Phil’s head starts spinning.

_ ‘God the one and only time we fucked her like that she screamed for us so loud, clawed up our arms and couldn’t even move between us, just sat there and took it god what if she screams like that again fuck fuck i won’t be able to handle that I’ll have to come I can’t i wont I just-’ _

Una cries out, louder this time, and his vision clears just a bit as he looks back to her.

Fuck, it’s buried to the hilt. The only indicator of it left is the gentle blue curve where one toy becomes the next peeking out ever so slightly between her legs. And the way she’s sat, legs spread, thighs shaking. 

“Mm” comes a small noise, not quite a whimper but close to it. Phil looks up to her face.

Big. Fucking. Mistake.

Her head back, lips parted on a small sigh. Little grin pulling at the corners of her mouth in a way that only happens when she’s  _ exceptionally _ pleased. Her hips grind ever so slightly into the pillow, and she gasps again.

_ “Fuck” _ breathed through a soft laugh. “Ah-!” she cries gently. 

_ She must have clamped down on it _

The memories of him learning what  _ that _ noise meant and of how that particular action  _ feels _ suddenly press to the forefront in his mind, and he feels himself panting.

“Sir, I-”

“No” she cuts him off, firm, if a little short of breath. Her hands move, and he can see now the little touch screen attached to the band around her wrist. She taps twice, and the vibrators buried in himself and their lover flare to life again, stronger this time.

His head flies back. Blood thrums in his ears so loud he can barely hear Chris crying out next to him. His dick is leaking, harder and harder and he can’t even bring himself to think, can’t speak, can’t  _ look _ at either of his partners or he’ll either come or die before he gets there, surely. Tears prick his eyes at the mercilessness of the toy pressing into his prostate: too much and not enough, can do nothing to fix it, nothing to change it, is pinned under his lover and her cuffs and can’t fucking take it.

She starts crying out louder and louder, rising notes of sweet little staccato _ ‘ah!’s _ that pulse in his blood and make his thighs twitch and  _ she’s so close he can hear it god he would give damn near anything just to touch her just to feel her just to hear her call his name- _

His vibrator abruptly stops, and his body sags into the bed before he even registers it’s off, before he even realized how tense he was. Chris pants next to him, shivering. Phil doesn’t know it it was mercy or torture.

Una gasps on a rising cry, and his eyes focus back to her. Hand rubbing furiously at her clit as she grinds desperately into the pillow, rocks once, twice. Throws her head back and cries out high in her throat as she trembles, thighs shaking furiously as she comes.

_ Torture, then. _

Chris whimpers next to him. Phil looks over. Chris is flushed, hair askew and slick with sweat. Eyes half lidded and glued to their lover as she rides her high, rolls her hips in little shivers.

Una sags forward just a tad, lets her hair block her face from view as she catches her breath. Small noises catch in her throat as she shifts ever so slightly on the pillow to ease the pressure of it inside her.

“Babe-” Chris tries again.

“Don’t  _ babe _ me,” Una warns from under the curtain of hair. Raises one finger on one hand in his direction. “it’s  _ sir _ from now until you either tap out, or I’m finished here”

“Sir,” Phil interjects. Instantly feels the air get knocked out of his lungs when Una looks up at him, raises her chin so she stares him down, eyes half lidded. Watching for the exact moment she can put him in his place.

He wishes the look struck more fear into him than arousal, especially when she clocks the twitch of his dick and smiles ever so slightly at his reaction.

“Sir, we’re sorry for breaking your rules. Whatever you want us to-”

“What I  _ want,” _ Una interjects, tactfully shutting down his entire plea for mercy. “Is for you to know that I could do this  _ all fucking night.” _ And, to enunciate her point, rolls her hips back into the pillow. Grinds herself into it as she raises the arm with the controller and taps twice.

Their toys thrum to life once more, and Phil just manages to bite down on a swear. Chris isn’t so quick, hissing out a quiet  _ ‘fucking-!’ _ and thrashing his head into the pillow.

“Oh how you wish you were” Una shoots back at him. “You know how fucking  _ good _ this is? How deep it is?” She cuts herself off with a quiet gasp. Holds herself still as her hand fumbles at her wrist again and Phil instantly realizes he is a hundred percent ready and willing to beg until his voice is hoarse if that damn plug switches back off.

Instead, the pillow resting over his leg suddenly hums with muffled vibrations, and he wants to fucking  _ scream. _

Una nearly does it for him, by the looks of it. Her head tosses back, hair falling over her face and shoulders as her lips part on a silent cry, nothing but thin air behind it. Her hips roll into the pillow harder in small aborted thrusts.

“God, it’s fucking  _ heaven _ boys” she gasps. “How bad do you wish you were here in its place, fucking into me instead?”

Chris swears again. Phil manages a whimper. He’s close, way, way too fucking close for comfort and he doesn’t want to disobey her, doesn’t wanna leave the fucking bed but god, he’s so fucking weak for her on a good day, let alone a bad one. Let alone a day when she decides to torture him. Let alone when she decides to dirty talk him straight to the edge of an orgasm he’s never wanted or needed  _ so badly. _

“You know how easy it would have been to be in its place, don’t you?” She asks, and he can  _ feel _ the vibrations of him and Chris aggressively nodding, too far gone for words. 

Her voice takes on a bit of a softer tone, still razor sharp with the words she  _ isn’t _ saying in between the words she  _ is.  _ “And you  _ know _ how much I wish it were you two, always you two, instead of a toy I can fuck myself on any time you aren’t around?”

_ ‘You know how much I love you two, right?’ _

He’s nodding again, and so is Chris.”Love you so much Un-  _ sir,” _ Chris manages through heaving breaths.

Una closes her eyes, fumbles with her wrist again. The vibrators go up a tick;  _ all  _ of them do.

Una swears something in Illryian, Chris shouts, Phil whimpers. The shudders take them all now, steady and strong. They’re close. They all are, all just shy of tumbling over the edge but still so achingly far away.

“We’ll,” Phil manages to pant. Una turns to look at him, chin down this time, watching him as a lover, not a dom like earlier. “We’ll be good. God we promise we’ll be so fucking good to you like you are to us we promise we love-”

He can’t finish the sentence: Una comes too quick for him to get it out.

Her face crumples before her head flies back and she’s all but  _ screaming _ her release. Her hips buck into the pillow even harder. One shaking hand dives between her own legs and he realizes that  _ oh holy hell, _ she came without touching her clit. Oh holy hell, she hasn’t done that since he and Chris fucked her like that toy is. Oh holy hell, he’s  _ dying _ to follow her lead.

She sags a bit within a few moments, shaking and gasping. Her hand fumbles to her wrist without looking and taps at the screen again and  _ fucking christ- _

The vibrator roars up one more aching level and he’s  _ gone. _

Chris makes some hopeless borderline scream next to him and it should hurt his ear with the proximity, should register in him at all but he can’t even process, can’t think. Una’s hand wraps around his dick and his hips damn near jackknife off the bed. Vaguely knows he’s screaming too, maybe even louder. His whole body pulses with the shocks of it: the hard and low thrums of coming untouched, her hand wrapping around him and only intensifying the whole experience. Overstimulated tears prick at his eyes and they slam shut as his head throws back. It feels like an eternity before his body just altogether  _ gives up _ and he collapses back into the bed.

It’s a long few moments of just laying there, prone and winded. Coasting through the aftershocks, feeling the tremors ricochet through his body in soft twinges. Minutes spent simply trying to get his breath back in his lungs. When reality slowly hazes back in, he realizes the cuffs -which are apparently remote as well- have fallen away. The vibrator winds down slowly, before finally going still inside him. He sighs. Feels a gentle hand grasp his fingers, pulling his hands down. Opens his eyes a crack.

Una, still mounted on the pillow on their legs, is holding both their hands near her knees. Checks the warmth of their fingers with the back of hers. Takes one hand of each into hers before rubbing slow circles into their wrists. It dawns on him that she’s checking circulation.

Ever worried, ever watchful. Ever caring. 

_ Even when she did damn near kill us with sex _

She glances at each of them in turn through her lashes. Scans their faces.

“You two ok?” asked quietly. Worridley. Looking like she’s wondering if she went too far.

He tilts his head to look at Chris. Chris looks back at him. They have an entire silent conversation in a mere moment. Chris’s lips twitch at the corners. The tiniest of nods in his direction.

Within seconds they’ve both sat up, flipped their hands in Una’s grasp and have each of her hands in theirs. A well timed tug from each and they drag Una down with them on the bed, face first. She makes some high, startled shriek that, coming from a woman who prides herself on being an Ice Queen on the daily, is both adorable and _ hilarious. _ Phil catches one flailing arm, Chris the other before he hands her other wrist to hmm and shimmies down the bed. Chris flips her legs around so she’s facing up, spreading them and locking her legs against him before she can even  _ think _ to use them to escape. 

Chris tugs at the now-off toy between her legs until only the heads are left inside her. Stares where she’s still speared open on them. Looks up to her chest, heaving with panting breaths. Looks at the hold Phil now has on her: hands pinned over her head in one of Phil’s. Chris catches Phil’s eyes, then catches hers. Grins wide.

“You know, we  _ were _ very ill behaved today” Chris says coyly, nodding to her. “You were right, babe”

“As you always are, honeybee” Phil adds sweetly. He watches her face transform as she tests their hold, realizes they’ve got her pinned fairly well. Watches her eyes widen as she sees and feels his free hand move up her arm to the touch screen control on her wrist. “Please, allow us to make it up to you.” He turns, nods to a very smug Chris.

Una manages to make a small noise -maybe a start of a word- before Chris is pushing both heads of the toy back in to the hilt and Phil turns the vibration settings from zero to three. Her head flies back. A loud, raw cry leaves her lips as the heads of the toy push in further and further into already over sensitized skin. Phil sucks bruising kisses into her neck, down her chest, takes a nipple between his lips. 

“Fuck you both” she says on a trembling breath, half laughing, fully overwhelmed. Chris gives another solid thrust, Phil turns it up to a four, and Una cries out again, higher and louder. Fingers curling and uncurling, desperate for something to hold onto. Her legs shake against Chris, stuck between pulling him in and falling open even further for them.

Chris laughs from where his head is between her thighs, warm breath ghosting her clit. She shivers, gasping.

“Yeah, it’s a little more than you were expecting, huh?” He asks smugly. Gestures to Phil with his chin with a wide grin. Phil grins back, leans in close to Una’s ear as Chris moves to wrap his lips around her clit.

_ “What’re you gonna do about it?” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re curious, they actually broke only *one* of what are strictly her rules and two of their trio's General ones. I’ll let you decide which are which.   
1\. Don’t pull shit that your partners wouldn’t be able to get away with.  
2\. Don’t make your partners consider breaking from the prime directive to go rescue your ass.   
And 3. Don’t make Number One cry.
> 
> I'm using This prompt for Kinktober, which was shown to me by the wonderful Killermanatee! Give them and their kinktober fics a heck of a lot of love, and feel free to leave me a kudos or comment if you enjoyed!


	19. Dirty Talk (Number One/Vina)

“You look so good like this, you know that right?”

Una blearily opens her eyes, takes a second to blink up at her as she pants. She’s just recovered from coming not that long ago, still out of sorts, still trembling. Her legs are still locked at the ankle behind Vina’s hips, resting on the straps all over her hips. 

Vina pushes one hand through Una’s hair. Knocks the already askew curls around her face even further. Leans over her to press kisses into her neck. The toy still buried in Una shifts a tad, she can  _ hear _ the slick sounds of it moving. Una whimpers a bit. Vina grins into her neck.

“God babe, seeing you like this? I thought fucking the boys was hot as hell, but you?” She makes some noise then, sucks a fresh bruise into her neck. 

Una sighs. Her legs start to fall open, start to loosen and fall.

Vina catches them. Grips her thighs firm against her sides before shifting her hips to push a shallow thrust into her. Una makes a strangled noise.

“V-” 

“I would keep you here all day if I could, you know?” She cuts her off. Another shallow thrust to oversensitive flesh. Another noise. Her legs shake. She doesn’t push Vina away.

_ ‘You’ll know if she wants to stop’ _ Phil’s advice echoes in her mind.

_ ‘Her ‘no’ is quick and clear’  _ Chris had confirmed, late at night after one of their ‘sessions’.  _ ‘But her ‘yes’? A bit more tricky to see’ _

She can see her _ ‘yes’, _ now. And it warms her that she  _ can. _

Sees it in the way Una relaxes back into the bed and lets the thrusts pillage her. In the way her thighs fall open for her, her lips part and lets herself make all the noise she wants. The way she offers her neck to Vina as he eyes slide shut. An offering, a challenge, an act of  _ trust. _

Another thought comes to her mind. Another snippet of advice that their boys gave her for this very moment where she has Una exactly where she wants her.

She pushes a hand between Una’s thighs where the toy is pressing her open. Swears as she hears Una’s shuddering breath.

“Shit, you’re so fucking wet babe”

Una whimpers again, but it’s just a tiny bit of a different noise than before. Tries to hide her face in her hands, tries to look away.

_ ‘Oh no no no. Not on my watch, love’ _

She pulls her hands off Una’s hips, takes one of her hands in each of her own and pulls them. Pins them to the bed as she leans over her. It changes the angle of the toy, and on the next thrust Una’s lips part on a rough gasp. Nowhere to hide, she squeezes her eyes shut. 

“What’s the matter babe?” she asks in a faux-innocent tone. “You don’t like it when I talk about how fucking hot it is that you’re so wet for me?”

Una’s head tilts back, exposing her throat as her breathing picks up.

“Oh, then you  _ certainly _ don’t want to hear all about how bad I want to fuck you until you’re absolutely  _ ruined,  _ huh?” she teases.

“You probably want me to shut up so you don’t hear all the details of the fantasies I have of whisking you away from the bridge, down into the botany labs and fucking you into the wall behind the tropical trees, where no one will see but  _ anyone _ could stumble upon and see you, fucked out and useless. Biting my shoulder to stop yourself from screaming.”

Una starts breathing in ragged gasps, small noises punctuating every one, every thrust. Vina keeps her short, steady pace.

“Oh but that isn’t all I want to see. No, I wanna know what the boys see every time they’ve fucked you. I want to know what you look like when you’re fresh off shift and they fuck you, when your hair is all a mess and your makeup is running and rubbed away, when they’ve ripped your clothes away and you’re underwear is all ruined because they couldn’t take the time to pull it away. Wanted you too much and too bad to do anything besides shove it to the side, and oh, who could blame them when you look like  _ this?” _

Una’s close, she  _ has to be.  _ She’s rolling her hips hopelessly into each of her thrusts, too far gone to do anything besides whimper and moan and pant. Is mouthing the word ‘please’ but can’t get the air behind it, can’t manage to actually  _ say _ it.

Luckily, Vina is feeling merciful. It  _ is _ the first time she’s letting her use a strap on on her, after all.

“I wanna know what you look like when you’re in between all three of us” she says lowly.

Una cries out, her head throwing back as she bucks into her harder. 

“Please, please please  _ please-” _ Una begs. Vina shushes her oh so gently. Lets go of one of her hands to cup her face. Una shoves her hand between her legs to get at her clit to get herself off.

Vina grabs her wrist, stops thrusting, switches to grinding into her hips in circles. Una makes a noise that sends a note of pity through her. She leans down to mutter to her, just over her lips.

“You can touch yourself all you want” she grants. “But just know, I’m not stopping until you safeword out, or I’m done with you, is that clear?”

Una makes a noise that Vina couldn’t hope to describe. Is gonna have to try and imitate later on, when their boys watch Una limp to her next shift and ask V for all the dirty details she promised them in exchange for advice.

“Are we clear, love?” 

Una nods vigorously, eyes still shut tight. 

“Good” she purrs. Lets go of Una’s hand, rewards her with a hard and fast thrust so unlike her last.

It’s a matter of seconds, maybe half a minute, before Una is screaming with her second orgasm, nothing behind it but thin breath, but Vina knows a scream when she hears one. She shakes and trembles, caught between her own hand and Vina’s toy and the mattress. Nowhere to run. Has to lie there and take it and seems to thrive in it, in how overwhelming and good and hard it is. Vina fucks her through it until she collapses back into the bed once more. Drenched in sweat, hair sticking every which way, face flushed, Una has never looked more beautiful.

Vina gradually slows to a stop. Sinks one hand into Una’s hair to pull her head aside and kiss her neck. Lave at the bruises already forming with her tongue, suck a few more down her pulse point. Long minutes spent of her hands traveling the curves and planes of Una’s body, tracing ever scar, cataloguing every mole and freckle -which she is delighted to know Una is  _ covered _ in, like a little constellation map on her skin that Una seems to somehow be  _ embarrassed _ over- and feeling each tremor pass through her. She nips at her carotid playfully.

“God, I want to see all four of us together” she whispers on a breath. Feel’s Una’s skin heat up in a blush, or newfound arousal starting to burn once more. “Can you imagine that, babe?”

She doesn’t wait for a reply. Slowly grinds her hips in circles so the blunt head of the toy grinds up into Una. The poor woman is so blissed out and exhausted that she doesn’t even startle, barely even reacts beyond a little moan and a shift of her thighs.

“Don’t worry, I can imagine it  _ for us” _ she remarks coyly. Una’s breath stutters on a soft  _ ‘hah’ _ as she shifts.

“You, spread out between us, letting us each have a turn with you. Chris pressed up into your back, fucking into you from behind, bouncing you in his lap as he takes whatever he wants from you.” a stuttered curse, a full body tremble. “Phil pressing his fingers into you as Chris pulls out, his come al over your thighs, Phil’s fingers, leaking all over you”

Una writhes. Shame and arousal burn her skin red. And oh, isn’t that a pretty sight? The unbreakable, unshakable Number One, reduced to a stuttering blushing mess when someone calls her on the one thing she adores the most and finds the hardest to admit. The Famed Ice Queen, melting under her hands as she imagines herself between her lovers. 

“God, you want that so bad, don’t you? Want Phil to fuck you next? Want his come all over your thighs just like Chris’s, don’t you? Want me all over your mouth, your thighs, your fingers, just like you want  _ you _ all over  _ me?” _

Una is crying out for her now, openly and loudly and without a trace of earlier self restraint. She’s far too ruined for that. Her most shameful fantasies have been layed out in front of her like a winning poker hand from Vina’s own side of the table, and oh, does she look so fucking  _ ecstatic _ to lose.

While she’s distracted, Vina pushes a hand between her thighs. Slips fingers under the harness of the toy to tap at a certain indent in the toy’s base-

The toy springs to life, low vibrations humming deep inside her lover, the unseen head of it curling upward rhythmically into Una, as Vina  _ well knows _ given her earlier testing.

Una  _ howls _ , taken by surprise. The sudden jolts of pleasure wracking through her and only making her sound more desperate, unchained and euphoric.

_ ‘And now, for that one last push’ before she falls’ _

“You want to be between all three of us, at our mercy, don’t you? Want to be passed around like a plaything, grabbed and fucked and  _ adored _ until you’re covered in us. Until you’ve got lube in your hair and come dripping between your thighs. You want bruises you’re gonna feel for  _ days _ on your hips, between your legs, your neck right where that collar hits.”

Una trembles and is almost screaming now. Nodding along because she’s too fucked out and breathless to form words. 

Vina leans in close.

“I wanna know every dirty little secret in that gorgeous head of yours. I’ll tie you up and edge you for  _ hours _ if it’s what it takes. Wanna hear every little whim, every fantasy, every secret little thrill so I can do  _ every single one _ to you. Watch the boys do _ every single one _ to you. Wanna know how loud you scream when we try one on for size, if you look as gorgeous then as you do now. Wanna feel you come around my fingers, my mouth, my toys, again and again, see how wet you can get for me-”

She doesn’t get to finish the thought before Una’s head throws back and she  _ screams. _ Full throated, overstimulated tears pricking at her eyes and sending mascara down in bits around the corners of her eyes. Her spine goes rigid and flexes off the bed in a smooth arch. Her nails digging into her arm, her side, claw at her and catch a bit at the marks where her skin meets her implants and sends shivers down her spine. She screams every last breath in her lungs before she collapses back, legs falling to the sides, arms dropping with them. Prone and breathless and, if the tiny grin at the corners of her lips is any indication,  _ very satisfied. _

Vina disengages as gently as she can. Coos gently at her lover as she whimpers low in her throat. Pads softly to the bathroom.

When she returns, she honestly can’t tell if Una is still awake or not. Takes care to be as gentle with cleaning her up as she would be if she is, murmurs praise as she clambers back to her in case she isn’t. When the warm, damp cloth hits her skin, Una mumbles out a pleased noise, almost a purr. Vina laughs a bit. Takes care to wipe her skin clean with soft strokes, avoids her sex when washing down her thighs. When she tosses the first over the side of the bed, it hits the floor with a soft wet noise that has them both snorting out a tiny laugh.

She shakes her shoulder gently. Una’s eyes crack open, hazy and half lidded with satisfaction. Vina gestures to the glass in her hand.

“Drink”

Una snorts. “Baby-”

“Babe,” Vina cuts her off. “If you don’t drink it, I’m telling Phil.”

Una gasps in mock horror. “You wouldn’t  _ dare” _

“Would you like to see?” She challenges.

Una laughs lightly as she forces herself to sit up a tiny bit. “You’re a monster” said not unkindly as Una plucks the glass from her fingers.

“And you’re the mad scientist who decided to give me the gifts of stubbornness and point-blank directness” she throws back at her as Una drains the glass.

“No sass” Una says stubbornly, setting the glass down. “Cuddle time”

She wraps one hand around her upper arm, leading her back down with her. They shuffle under the covers. When Vina kisses her nose, Una smiles. Her eyes half lidded, full of such potent warmth as her lips pull into a smile so soft and gentle that it sends a pang of  _ something _ through Vina’s chest, sudden and  _ sure. _

Una kisses her nose back. Laughs so soft and sweet that Vina is sure her heart is gonna explode out of her chest with whatever is taking up residence between her ribs at the sight of someone so intimidating, so sure of herself and her actions, looking at her like she’s done something  _ incredible. _ She smiles back. 

Una tucks her head under her chin. Curls her whole Amazonian built body up so she fits in the space Vina’s own body is curled around. Sighs as Vina’s arms encircle her. Shuffles even closer. Noses at her collarbone as she places a hand on her chest.

It’s long minutes before Una’s breath evens out. Long minutes spent before Vina realizes her fingers have been stroking Una’s bare skin, and she can’t bear to stop. She spends god knows how long, laid up in the darkness of Una’s bedroom, watching her newfound lovers chest rise and fall. Trying to understand what it is about it, that makes something bloom in her chest. What is it about the inky curtains of normally pristine hair now disheveled across the pillow? The thick thighs and rounded hips and strong shoulders, normally so intimidating, now coiled so tightly just so they could allow themselves to be held? The soft lips parted on quiet breaths, the fluttering lashes, the normally creased brow now smoothed with peace. What is this new and unknown warmth spreading through her, pressing into all the spaces in her she never knew she was lacking anything before, and why does it feel so impossibly familiar?

It hits her, just as she’s on the edge of sleep herself. Just as her lids fall shut and her mind supplies her with the memories where she’s known this before.

_ Chris, when she said something witty across the table to him after Spock has also laid into him about something dumb Chris has said. His head throwing back as he laughs, high, hysterical laughter so unbecoming of such a broad and commanding man that it draws the attention of a few other people in the caf. Her chest filling with pride at making him laugh, something else intertwined with it. _

_ Phil, when she snuck him into the botany labs restricted section long after she was supposed to be in there. Taking his hand in hers as she led him through the maze of trees and flowers and bushes she’s long since memorized. Their hands covering each others mouths to muffle nervous giggles as they dove into a bush to avoid detection from the lead researcher on his rounds. Hearing the doors close and just losing it to laughter as they laid together in a fucking bush of all places, like criminals on the run instead of grown adults who just wanted to look at new and exciting floral additions. He had grinned at her then as he plucked a stray twig from her hair, eyes shining with humor and delight. The feeling had been there, too. Rising and swirling in her chest, through her whole being, at sharing such an impossible moment. _

And now, Una. Her face as she kissed Vina’s nose playing over and over on repeat. The way she slotted herself into her arms not because she had to, but because she  _ wanted to. _ Wanted to be held, to lay with her, to spend the night with her not just for sex, but for  _ her. _ She could have asked her to leave at any time, had expected that she would. Instead, Una wormed her way into her arms and kissed her nose and let herself fall asleep there, trusting Vina would stay.

_ ‘You should listen for her no, but always, always look for her yes’ _

The feeling swells in her chest again, stronger than ever. Flows through her whole being and floods her with the warmth of it. It is unknown no longer. It has a name she knows far too well, has wanted for years and years until she never thought she would have it, and has found it not once, but three times over.

She pulls Una a bit tighter, kisses her forehead before she drops off. Feels Una shuffle in her arms one last time, sighing one more breath on her neck.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I’ll bet you just about anything that Una was awake just a bit longer than Vina thought, if only bc she was feeling just too damn soft to miss out on more soft cuddles before she has to wake up and Be Number One again in the morning. Also, sorry for getting all soft and mushy at the end of a kinktober fic but like,,,, I’m A Big Slut for rough and tough characters being all soft bc they trust someone, and also bc I have a long con in the wings abt this. Also, Big Gay.
> 
> I'm using This prompt for Kinktober, which was shown to me by the wonderful Killermanatee! Give them and their kinktober fics a heck of a lot of love, and feel free to leave me a kudos or comment if you enjoyed!


	20. Public Sex/Aphrodisiacs (Tilly/Michael/Nhan)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> couldn't post yesterday due to school kicking my ass. getting a degree is hard, kids. Anyway, have some mild smut, the next chap should be up later today/tomorrow. double upload (hopefully)

In a weird way, this is a good bonding experience.

Two weeks into being reunited post-jump and this is the first time they’ve found to collectively  _ relax. _ Let go, bask in each others presence and just  _ breathe. _ The planets surface doesn’t have too many resources to rebuild their ship, but it does have its perks. Natural sauna pools heated by underground lava, a nice cool breeze, trees that bend and curve and drape like fiery colored willow trees above them. Each of the leaves that fall from the trees are landing in the warm pools and floating on the surface. They look almost iridescent in the waves, and they smell  _ so nice _ ; like something vaguely vanilla and spice.

The first shift who took a break came back to the ship all blissed out and lax, flushed and insistent that everyone should take a trip down for a swim. And the prospect of a nice hot soak after god knows how long?

Her pool is taken up by herself and Michael, Nhan, Keyla and Joann, but they’ve all been walking around and shouting jovially across the few feet between pools. Somewhere down a few yards, Reno and Pollard argue and splash and kick at a laughing and shouting Culber and Stamets. The rest of the bridge, a few others from medical and the Emperor in surrounding pools in small groups.

She feels… tired, but good. Loose, giddy, cuddly. Michael laughs from where she’s curled up in Tilly’s arms, says something back at Nhan that Tilly doesn’t  _ super _ process but laughs anyway. They haven’t been here long, but it feels like she could stay for a few hours more, easily. Feels so good, like everything is happening in slow motion, almost like that time she was on Q’uonos and-

From her peripherals, she sees Keyla reel Joann in for a kiss. Soft and gentle, and they pull away. And then they go back in. Again. And Again. Keyla slips her tongue past Joann’s lips and Joann shivers and pulls her closer and Tilly doesn’t know why she’s watching, why she can’t turn away but she can feel herself  _ reacting. _

Michael’s hand squeezing her thigh pulls her out of it. She blinks, looks around. Others are watching them, from other pools. People are pulling closer to one another. Georgiou grins as a medical officer climbs into her lap, another following her lead. The groups of twos and threes push off the edges of the steaming pools, coming together in the middles of the pools to grasp at one another. Keyla hops into Joann’s lap, and she can just make out the sight of Joann’s hand slipping down between her legs.

Michael’s lips graze her collarbone.

They aren’t out of their minds. She still feels very much  _ sober _ for sure, but there’s  _ something _ going on. Heat is pooling between her legs, her skin craves to wrap Michael up and feel her close. It’s not even a craving for  _ sex _ so much as it is just-

Nhan breaks her thoughts as she pushes through the water. Her head dips below the surface so the water comes up just below her eyes. When she reaches her, she rises from the surface. She’s the spitting visage of a water nymph: dark curls stretched and heavy, dripping pearls of water down her skin, piercings glinting on her skin like stars, hooded eyes staring into hers. 

She slips into her lap and perches on her knees. Spreads her legs and puts her arms around her and Michaels shoulders and slides slowly, deliberately closer with a smooth flex until she’s flush with her pelvis. Michael smiles into her neck. Nhan’s hand massages at the bases of both their skulls  _ right _ where Tilly usually gets her headaches and Michael gets all stiff and it feels like absolute heaven.

Tilly’s skin  _ sings _ with pleasure, satisfaction. ‘ _ Intimacy _ ’ it whispers from the back of her mind. ‘ _ Skin to skin, heart to heart, love meets love meets love _ ’

She hears a stuttered moan next to her. Wants to look but can’t take her eyes off the two women in her arms. Manages to get her brain back online long enough to tug at Michael’s tank top with one hand.

“Off” she says simply. Michael giggles.

“Agreed” she says. Struggles to peel the soaked fabric off her waist.

“That’s why I took mine off before I got in” Nhan quips smugly. “No shirt, no problem” 

Michael tries unsuccessfully to pull it over her arms and shoulders and succeeds in getting stuck, and it takes both Tilly and Nhans combined efforts to pull it off -further complicated by the fact that they’re all laughing like crazy. WHen she’s finally shirtless, Michael presses herself back into their arms with giddy quickness.

The contact seems to do something that just feels like it’s  _ soothing her soul. _ She almost moans, barely biting it back in a sigh that’s shared by her lovers. 

Lovers. 

_ Are they _ her lovers?

The sounds of others in various stages of cuddling and sex and kissing are like a quiet symphony around them. The breeze kicks up, sends more leaves into the pools, makes the sweet spice to the air a tiny bit more potent. Her muscles are loose, her head is clear, she feels…  _ good. _

Michael’s lips meet Nhans. A soft and slow kiss shared between them that sends waves of affection and love and lust through Tilly all at once. Nhan cups her face, Michael wraps her fingers in her hair. Fuck, she wants one of those. One of each, please. Make that two, or three. A bunch

Nhan and Michaels’ kiss is broken by their mutual giggles, and they turn to look at her. Oh shit, did she say that aloud? Michael and Nhan nod. SHit, she said that aloud too. She should just shut up.

Nhan smirks, leans forward and cups her face. Michael curls in closer and throws one leg of her hers and Nhans’. 

“I can think of a few ways to do that” whispered lowly to her lips.

“Yes please” she breathes back.

Nhan pulls her close and presses a kiss to her lips, and fuck, her lips are just as soft as they look. Michael curls up against their sides, mouths at Tillys’ neck. The breeze picks up once more, winding in her hair and sending them all sliding just a little further into the warm waters.

They won’t have to worry about overheating in the waters for at least another half hour. WOn’t be expected back on the ship for another hour or so. And god, it feels so nice to be here. So natural to share something like this with them, feels so intimate and nice and warm and  _ good. _

She pulls the both of her lovers closer. Tugs a bit at Nhan’s undershorts, feels her laugh. Pulls away to get rid of her last piece of clothing as Michael pulls her into a kiss. A warm kiss that has them both smiling and half laughing. Only ending when Nhan slips back into their laps.

Fuck it. They have time.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aphrodisiacs don't always have to be 'fuck or die'. Sometimes they're just 'hey, you wanna be Real Close to the people you like, however that means'. Sometimes you and the boys end up basically becoming part of a giant 'aphrodisiac tree tea' and that's ok. Sometimes you have public sex with your new queer found family, and that's just how it be.
> 
> I'm using This prompt for Kinktober, which was shown to me by the wonderful Killermanatee! Give them and their kinktober fics a heck of a lot of love, and feel free to leave me a kudos or comment if you enjoyed!


	21. Semi-Public Masturbation (Michael/Cornwell)

This is wrong.

She knows it’s wrong on so many levels. They just got handed awards because she and her crew  _ forced a mutiny _ and somehow  _ won, _ and she’s gone and run off as soon as they’re over because she can’t control her own petty impulses-

She darts into the first bathroom she sees, sprints to the last stall, locks it behind her and presses her back to the door.  _ Breathes. _

_ She shouldn’t be here.  _

Her breath still comes in pants, not from lack of physical shape. 

_ Her family could be worried. Her friends could be worried. _

She loosens her collar, unzips her jacket.

_ Someone could walk in at any moment _

Her pulse races.

_ *She* could walk in here _

Her hands tear at the zippers and clasps at her pants. Gets them open and shoves her hand in and under her underwear. Images flash in her mind.

The Admiral, standing tall with her shoulders back as she addresses her crew. Proud, awed, perhaps a bit wry. The Admiral, watching her as she gave her speech on fear and how to conquer it, eyes half lidded and face impassive. Considering.

The hand teasing her clit finally sinks further, and she bites her lip to stifle the gasp even when she knows no one else is here. The images don’t stop.

Cornwell, greeting her at the door of her temporary quarters far too late into the night. Thin but toned arms on full display, face bare, hair askew ever so slightly. The way she put her hands on her hips. The full-body once over she subjected Michael to, lips parted. The nod as she gestured Michael inside well past normal meeting hours. The way she bit her lip and smiled softly as Michael immediately took her shoes off at the door, a habit from her home she had never quite shaken.

The circles around her clit are rough, faster than she would normally go but she’s on a time crunch and she’s so wet, has been every time she’s stood in the presence of  _ her _ that she can’t help herself. She doesn’t even know what it is about the woman that has her so captivated, has her drawn to her like a moth to a flame. 

_ ‘Oh but that is a lie,’ _ some traitorous part of her brain croons, pleasure giving volume to the voice. Her hand pushes harder, gathers more slick. The same circles that are overwhelming and yet somehow still not enough send pulses up her spine.  _ ‘You know very well why she tempts you like a sin, vexes you like a riddle, charms you like a conman’ _

Kat, as she had insisted when Michael had been to her quarters that night. “Call me Kat. It’s late enough that I don’t wanna hear the word ‘sir’ for at least a few more hours” she insisted with a wry curl of the mouth. Kat, who bent over the back of the couch that she sat Michael down on with the grace of a dancer and offered her a drink. Kat, who handed it to her and brushed her fingertips against hers in the trade off, the simple contact sending shivers down her spine. Kat, who sipped from her drink with a tilt of her head that should violate some kind of law with how sensual it was despite having no right to be. Her hard-won smiles that crinkled around eyes that had the light of the stars in them. Her even harder-won laughs that had her head tilting back and her head shaking and her hair flying around her face. Kat, who apparently forgoed any form of bra and who’s nipples had hardened at some point in the night. And while they were decades past the age where women’s chests were considered any more obscene than mens and she  _ knew _ it was illogical, her eyes had kept glancing at them. Kept appearing in her thoughts.

Kat, who starred in her fantasies many a night. Kat, who after Michael had left her quarters, resolute and  _ unreasonably _ turned on, had been the subject of much consideration. What would her skin taste like under her tongue? Feel like under her hands? Would she bare her throat for Michael like she did her drink? Oh, how she longs to know what the noises she would make would sound like. She’s imagined herself sinking to her knees for her on that couch a hundred times: pushing her head between the Admirals thighs, feeling her nails on her skin, her hands in her hair, her clit under her lips as she laps at her opening. How she would whimper and twitch and shake for her until those same hands tightened and her thighs would clamp around her ears as she screamed for her

_ ‘Oh Michael!-’ _

She’s coming just like that. Her knees damn near give out and she presses herself harder into the stall door for support as she shakes. A noise gets strangled in her throat, barely tamped down as her fingers roll her through each wave. In her mind's eye, The Admiral looks down at her with pleased eyes, half lidded and cloudy. Kat smiles down at her. Scratches gently at the base of her hairline with short nails. Tells her that she did good. Hauls her up to lick herself off Michaels lips-

In the present, Michael pulls her hand free from her pants, careful to not touch her uniform. Sighs. Zips herself up and leaves the stall for the sink. Is midway through washing her hands when the door to the bathroom opens. Her eyes clock the movement.

The Admiral stands near the door as it gently closes behind her. She regards Michael. 

“Knew you would be around here somewhere” she quips dryly. Leans herself casually against the nearby wall with her arms crossed. “You wanna tell me why you ran outta that hall like a bat outta hell? Public speaking doesn’t seem like the type of thing to spook you”

It isn’t. They both know it, and Michael is a bad liar to begin with. 

_ ‘Little liar’ _ hisses that same voice from before.  _ ‘You’re an excellent liar. Just not with people you don’t *want* to lie to’ _

“I found myself… running warm” she answers simply. Gestures to the sink. “I took a few moments to myself, then tried to cool myself with the water” Not a lie, technically. Her specialty. Delivered perfectly, without a trace of doubt.

“Bullshit”

The honesty is so point-blank it nearly startles her right out of her skin. Kat doesn’t even seem upset, which is the second worst part of it all. The worst?

She called her out with  _ humor _ in her voice. Even now, she’s grinning at Michael like this whole situation is somehow  _ comedic. _

“Admiral, I  _ am _ running warm-”

“I don’t doubt that” Kat cuts in. “I’m calling bullshit on the way you’re trying to convince me there isn’t more to the story.”

She takes a few sauntering steps towards her. Michael can’t help the way her eyes track the subtle sway of her hips, the grace of the movement that once again reminds Michael of a dancer. Like these bathroom tiles are a stage and Kat is performing a routine she has long since memorized.

She gets within a foot.

“I know I’m not about to get all the information outta you now, so I won’t bother trying” she says to Michael simply. Still almost smug in her tone. Leans closer until they’re mere inches apart, startling Michael’s pulse into a rapid fire rush.

“How about you tell me later, instead? My quarters? Unless you and your roommate had other plans…”

She doesn’t, and even if she did, she knows that Tilly would almost  _ certainly _ cancel them as soon as she got even a hint at the idea that Michael would be turning down  _ this _ instead.

“That sounds lovely” Michael manages. Cringes at her phrasing internally. ‘Lovely’? Who even fucking says that anymore, especially if this is what she thinks it is-

Her self-flagellation is interrupted by the sight of Kat smiling at her. It’s not pitying, or strained. It’s  _ warm, _ achingly so. It knocks the breath right out of her lungs.

“I’ll message you where it is once I get outta here then” she purrs, low and satisfied, and oh does that do  _ something _ to Michael.

Kat nods to the door behind them, pats Michael on the arm.

“Now get outta here. I held off your roommate and your parents long enough, and by now they’re probably either ready to start a search party or kill one another, depending on how much your mom likes Tilly. Not to mention I gotta take a leak and give myself a pep talk before I go spend a few hours talking to colleagues who have such overinflated egos that if you stabbed ‘em with a needle they’d pop like balloons”

Michael is in such a daze that she doesn’t bother to school her smile or her laugh. Stumbles forward and manages to get to the door. Leaves and makes the slow trek back to the event hall. She has one more image to add to the ever-growing collection in her mind's eye.

Kat, out of the corner of her eye. Seeing Michael smile and laugh at her banter, a multitude of emotions flickering over her face.

Affection, warmth, humor, desire.

‘Later’ cannot come soon enough.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm using This prompt for Kinktober, which was shown to me by the wonderful Killermanatee! Give them and their kinktober fics a heck of a lot of love, and feel free to leave me a kudos or comment if you enjoyed!


	22. Massage (Boyce/Vina)

He works far, far too hard for someone to  _ not _ take care of him like this.

Vina doesn’t know if his  _ (their?) _ lovers do, because they very well may. But Phil had also been so hesitant, so tense under her hands until the first knot in his shoulder gave out. 

His neck had been bothering him for days. Every time she saw him: in the caf, medical, when he swung by her station in the labs, when he checked her implants, the quiet movie nights spent together, he kept twinging at his shoulder. Kept subtly rubbing at it. The movements of that arm jerky and stiff instead of the smooth glide that every one of her past doctors kept pushing on her to have herself.

When she offered her hand the first time, he refused. Told her the ache would go away. It did not. She offered a second time days ago, and was again shot down gently as is his wont. 

Tonight, she didn’t offer. She  _ acted. _

Sat up next to him on the couch midway through a movie and placed her hands on his shoulders. Firmly shot him down when he protested, but left room for him to flee, just in case. He did not. Patient and stiff, he stared at nothing while she had worked her thumbs into the offending knot in his shoulder, trying to recall all the physical therapy techniques used on her over the years. Three minutes. Five minutes. Push a bit harder. Switch from swipes to targeted circles, ease up. Repeat.

When the muscle finally shivered and gave, he hissed lowly. Not out of pain, but the rush of endorphins likely rushing from the area. Pleased. She pretended like the sound of it  _ didn’t  _ send some silent thrill through her. Kept working on his shoulders, searching for the next.

Somehow, they ended up here. Phil’s long form spread out on the couch under her as she straddles his lower back. Hands pushing into his back as she skims his form with her fingertips, finds a tense spot and works it to release, starts over somewhere else.

She doesn’t know if he’s aware of the little noises he’s making. He might be in a bit of a daze. Just little sounds dripping from gently parted lips. A soft inhale through the teeth as she finds a new tender area. Shivers of his chest as she works on it, gentle and then not so much, gentle once more when it gives. A stutter of breath and a twitch down his spine when the soreness is suddenly gone. Every little sound he makes imprints in her mind. Falls like a pebble in water with a splash of awareness, then sinking down, down into a place where she knows they’ll call to her later tonight like sirens. When she’s all alone and laid up in bed, all too aware of the box under her bed as his voice sighs call to her from the deep-

Vina shakes herself out of it as the last knot on his upper back gives way. Phil sighs again, his whole body going even more limp and loose and she once again has to pretend that the rush of heat between her thighs isn’t because of him, isn’t happening at all.

She sits up from his back. He goes to try and get up as well. Her hands firmly plant themselves on his shoulder blades and he goes down almost instantly. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” she asks, matter of fact. “We aren’t done.”

“You’ve already done more than enough, jaybird” he teases. A smile starts to creep up his face, and it’s infectious.

She smiles back. “Well  _ bluejay, _ ” she teases back. “Last time I checked you still had a whole lower back, which is undoubtedly sore for a variety of reasons, not the least of which being that your legs are  _ far _ too long and that I’ve been sitting on you for god knows how long”

He snorts. “First of all, you way next to nothing, my dear” Her heart trips on the endearment. “And it isn’t my fault that my legs decided to keep growing. I told them very plainly that I would rather they stop, but they overrode my will”

“Doesn’t change the fact that you’re six-foot-fucking-five and you’re trying to convince me that you  _ don’t _ have lower back pain?”

She shimmies back to sit on his thighs. Settles. Begins working gently on his lower back. His thighs twitch at the skim of her fingers. She finds a sore point. Begins to work her hands into it with a firm pressure.

God, if the noises he made before were bad, this is  _ torture. _

As her hands work the knots and tension from his spine, Phil is practically boneless under her. Noises fall from his lips, louder now. Open gasps and pleased sighs, quiet whimpers and stutters of breath. Every one of the sends a rush of  _ feeling _ through her: pride at making him feel good, warmth at him being so vulnerable with her, the aching arousal that already burned for him  _ before _ she knew he made sounds so sweet. She spends ages working the skin under her palms, letting herself absorb each and every twitch, shiver, sigh. Lets herself wonder if he would sound so intoxicating in a more intimate setting. What his cries would sound like if they were louder, more desperate. If he were laying on his back instead of his front and she could place herself in his lap and-

The last of the tension in his lower back ceceds under her hands. Phil sighs as she skimps her palms across the heated skin, and fuck, something about  _ that _ noise, the pleasure twined in it, threatens to drown her in want.

“Are you doing ok?” she asks.

“Mm” he answers back. “More than ok. Might lie here for a little bit, let the muscles stay relaxed so they don’t bunch up immediately”

She nods, even if he can’t see it. Levers herself with her hands to sit further up on his back to smooth her palms across his flesh, make sure she didn’t miss anything.

It’s only when she makes contact with his naked back that she realizes the critical error of her move.

She had been sitting across his thighs, meaning there was no form of pressure on her gorin, only her own thighs. Sitting on his back, there is. And she realizes with a quick dawning horror that she is  _ wet. _ Achingly so. Another sharp pang of horror stabs through her arousal at another realization: she’s in the skirt uniform. Which means she’s only wearing the undershorts. Which are  _ soaked. _

She prays uselessly that he doesn’t notice. No such luck, if the way he tenses is any indication. It’s quiet. Very quiet. She stays deathly still. So does he.

“Would you mind sitting up for just a moment, my dear?” he says after a moment. Her heart beats so loudly in her chest, her face burns with shame. She rises, he shifts under her.

_ ‘God I fucked it I ruined it I ruined the friendship we had, god what if this affects our relationship with Chris and Una oh god will they hate-’ _

She’s interrupted by the firm grip of hands on her hips. Gasps at the contact. Looks back down at Phil as he tugs her down with a firm pull and pulls them flush so she’s sitting on his lap.

Fuck, he’s hard. The swell of his crotch presses into the too-wet heat of her own underwear. The heated contact makes them both hiss. His hands shake on her hips like it’s taking everything in his power not to grind into her.

_ ‘Fuck that. Go bold or go home’ _

She rolls her hips into his firmly. The pressure on her clit pulls a gasp out of her, some strangled whimper caught in Phil’s throat echoing it. Does it again, grinds herself in ircles against him because she just cannot fucking help herself. Can’t imagine going back to her quarters and even  _ trying _ to get herself off. Her toys under the bed were never warm like a person, like Phil. Never make such beautiful gasps, never grip her hips and make her feel so alive. Desirable. Beautiful.

His hands tighten up and she makes a quiet pleased  _ ‘mm’ _ before she can stop herself. Phil swears lowly.

“Fuck, jaybird” he says, breathless and fond. A feeling swells in her chest, unknowable, unnamed. He sighs a steadying breath. Gives them a once over. 

“We’ve been dancing towards something like this for awhile now, haven’t we?” he muses.

“I think so, bluejay” she adds as she catches her breath. Thank god his grip on her is strong, or she wouldn’t be able to keep still. Feels like she’s gonna rip apart at the seams any second now with want. 

He swallows. Watches her face carefully. “How comfortable are you with... “ gestures at the two of them. “This. Sex in general?”

Her heart races. 

_ Panic panic don’t make things awkward what would Una do what would Chris do fuck fuck _

“Besides the box full of sex toys under my bed and a few regrettable attempt at learning to kiss? Nothing. But I’ve been told I make up for lack of experience with enthusiasm, so i have  _ that _ going for me” 

_ Wow. Wow. Really? ‘What would Chris and Una do’ and you respond with- well, actually, _ \

Phil laughs. Puts a hand to his reddening face as he looks away. 

“God V, those two are a terrible influence on you”

“They’re a fantastic influence on me, and you play a part in this too, you know” she throws right back at him.

He settles. Flexes his hands on her hips. They rock just a bit into his dick and they both sigh.

“You’ll tell me if you want to stop?” he asks.

“Absolutely. And you will too?”

He nods. “Just, communicate, ok? I’m not a mind reader, and I need to know if something is good, or painful, or not ok”

“And you’ll tell me the exact same”

Another nod. “We’ll go slow”

She shakes her head. “If you try to go slow with me, I might have to kill you. Because i don’t know if you’ve noticed-” another rock of her hips, a strangled noise in response. “-but I am so fucking turned on right now”

He swallows firmly. “We’ll go slow to start” he amends. “And see where this goes”

She smiles. Puts her hands on his shoulders to anchor herself. Grinds into him in slow, hard circles. Leans over him as her hair falls around her face.

“And where, pray tell, is this going? Because unless you have any objections, I think right here on your couch is a fine place for this to be”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm using This prompt for Kinktober, which was shown to me by the wonderful Killermanatee! Give them and their kinktober fics a heck of a lot of love, and feel free to leave me a kudos or comment if you enjoyed!


	23. Collar/Leash (Number One/Pike)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this got more 'tender love' than it did 'kinky smut' but ya know, that's just how love is sometimes. One day you're showing someone you love them by railing them over a desk, the next you're binding each other up in leather and spending the whole time waxing poetic about how made for one another you are

Of all the things she’s had to do for diplomacy and ‘For the good of the Federation’, this is one of the weirder ones.

Landing on the planet was easy enough: just her and Chris, an easy pitch and negotiation about joining the Federation, maybe a party afterwards. In and out, friendly banter, maybe a few stolen kisses and some flirting without their coworkers around. Easy.

No such fucking luck.

Apparently, the people of this society believe in ‘belonging’ to one another. Not in a ‘against the Federation and our own morals’ way, but still… strange. From what the translators could piece together and what she and Chris managed to fill in, the people view the bonds as some kind of honor. A tying of souls, a bond of high trust and responsibility, something looked at as a high honor. 

_ ‘Fair enough’ _ she had thought, foolishly.  _ ‘We’re bonded together. We ‘belong’ together. Hell, we’re so damn made for each other that we have almost the exact same clothing sizes and we can finish each others’ sentences. Say we belong together, have an actual excuse to flirt. Piece of cake’ _

Until that is, they found a tiny little detail about the people they’re going to meet with: ‘Belonging’ pairs wear  _ collars. _

Specifically, one of them wears a collar and the other a bracelet of the same material and width, signifying a whole bunch of shit, and the bands themselves should have meaning to them, and a whole other list of shit that she barely paid attention to. She was stuck on the words over and over.

_ ‘Collar, bracelet, band, belong’ _

“Una” Chris had hesitantly started.

“Who’s wearing the collar?” She cut in, half distracted.

“I… I don’t think I’m comfortable with you wearing it” he admitted. She looked over to him. He looked… hesitant? Uncomfortable? Worried?

“Is that discomfort coming from ‘Captain Pike’ or ‘Chris’?” And there  _ is  _ a difference between the two, just like there’s one between ‘Number One’ and ‘Una’.

He had swallowed. “I just…” he trailed off, trying to find words. She decided to make the leap for him. Put a hand on his arm, leaned against the ready room desk. He looked to her.

“I’ll wear the bracelet” said with as much calming assuredness as she can. It worked, and his shoulders dropped. “Now, lets use that fancy Captain’s override code on the replicators and see if any of the ‘not so secret sex shit’ folders have anything in the way of what we need”

An hour later, and they’re walking to the transporter room as though they  _ don’t  _ have what’s effectively bondage gear carefully folded into their pockets. She barely hears Chris requesting they beam down a hundred feet away by a treeline, or his excuse as to why. Like hell they’re gonna tell their coworkers what they’re about to do for the good of diplomacy. They stand, they energize, they land.

It’s a beautiful landscape of purples, greens and blues. The leaves above them sway with royal purples and yellow tips -her favorite colors, no less. The thought occurs to her that she should ask the native people for a sample, or at least a leaf. The sound of a zipper catches her attention.

Chris tugs his collar out of his pocket. It prompts her to tug her own cuff out. Two dark brown bands, faux leather. The collar about three quarters of an inch wide, the cuff a little over an inch and a half. Little metal eyehole clasps decorate the ends of each, with two dark strings to thread through them and tie both the cuff and collar shut. All across the bands are small little grooves and swirls. Each with tiny little cuts into them made with their own crude hands and a stolen caf knife: the collar with a tiny little ‘U’, her bracelet with a matching ’C’. A perfectly logical choice to make to prove their bond to the locals, if prompted.

“Una, could you-”

“Yeah”

He would have a hell of a time doing it himself. He unzips his uniform jacket to the collarbone to give her access. She presses her own cuff into his hands, which he cradles gently. Stands patiently as she puts it around his neck with the clasps in front, threads the string through loosely. The air between them is charged in a quiet way. It has her watching him so close. Watching the ease at which he raises his chin to give her better access, baring his throat without hesitation. The way his throat bobs as he swallows. She finishes looping them. Spins it slowly around his neck and steps close, closer than before. His hands go to her hips on reflex. Her hands take up the ends of the first loop behind his neck. Slowly, she pulls them tighter.

His head tips forward as it pulls taut, breathing a bit deeper. 

“This good?” she whispers.

He nods. She nods. Her fingers skim to the next clasp.

By the time she’s at three out of six, they’re both so close that they’re practically sharing the same breath. Four out of six and the length of her body is pressed against his, doesn’t know where the sudden mood shift happened, doesn’t regret it. Five out of six. His forehead presses against hers. Their noses bump. His eyes are closed. The final clasp. She’s leaning on him and he is her. She lets her fingertips brush the nape of his neck as she ties a bow knot with the ends. Leans her head up and presses a kiss to his hairline, too afraid of leaving lipstick on his skin to kiss his temple like she wants to. For a few moments, they just breathe.

Chris takes her hand in his, releasing her hips in the process and she instantly misses the heat, the pressure. He grasps her hand gently, oh so fucking gently. Holds it to his chest with her palm up and facing her as he slides the cuff over her wrist. Threads the string through each eyelet in a criss cross just like hers before he pulls her even closer. The first clasp pulls, not too tight but firm, impossible to miss the sensation of it on her skin. It pulls closed, and some deep part of her brain simultaneously lights up and also calms down. All she can think is a simple, charged  _ ‘oh’. _ Second clasp, and her unoccupied arm snakes over his shoulder -for support or the contact, she’ll never know. The third pulls shut. She has eight to his six. Halfway in, and she aches with something she didn’t know she had for it to finally pull shut, somehow needs to feel it pressing into her skin just as his is pressing into his throat. Doesn’t know where the ache came from but just knows she  _ needs. _ Barely registers five. Six has her hand behind him grasping at his other shoulder, has her breath coming in soft sighs. Seven. Eight, finally eight. He ties it off with a bow just like hers. Pulls her hand up to his mouth and kisses her palm, her wrist, the bow at the bottom. She pulls it away, pulls back far enough to look him in the eyes, finds his own staring back at her. Her hand traces the edge of his collar, and oh how she longs to kiss it there, leave her lipstick all over him, suck bruises into the skin just under the band and have it rub into him all fucking day under his uniform-

_ “Holy shit, Un” _ he breathes through a half laugh, and she’s helpless but to follow. “I didn’t, I didn’t know if it was just me, or-”

“No,” she breathes through a chuckle. “Me too, I, I dunno what the fuck happened there, or” she stops, cradles his face in one hand. His hand overlaps hers, the other cinching around her waist. They’re close, far too close to be mistaken as simple colleagues to any of the locals who may be seeing them from the buildings a hundred feet or so away. But then again, they  _ aren’t _ just colleagues, are they? These bands prove as much. They both  _ belong. _

Her hand traces his collar just as his own thumb rubs her wrist.

“Mine” she manages quietly. “You’re mine”

It occurs to her that they had never  _ really _ said it, before now. Had been together like this for years, dancing around it for even longer. She knows he has a place in her soul, a home, and her in him. They had been saying ‘I love you’s since before they even started sleeping together. And yet somehow, those words had never left her lips. Ownership, but not exactly. A claim.  _ Belonging. _

Chris nods, blue eyes full of so many emotions as he looks into hers. “I am yours” he confirms. Rubs his thumb into her wrist harder. “And you are mine”

_ “Always” _ she whispers, far, far too soft. She’s overcome by intimacy, by the inherently charged sexuality and sensuality in collars and cuffs, in just how much she loves this man, in the leaves that are her favorite colors that drop all around them from the wind shaking the trees and how he’s looking into her eyes and holding her so close. 

_ ‘This is what their people mean’  _ distantly rings in her mind as she kisses him, uncaring of the threat of smeared lipstick across both their faces.  _ ‘Belong. The highest honor, reverent and sweet’ _

Their lips part. They breathe the same air. Her body is buzzing with unresolved tension. But they have a mission to get to.

“Later,” Chris promises into a parting kiss on her wrist, even if their parting is only by an agonizing few inches.

“Later,” she swears back, tilting his head to shove his shirt aside and press one last kiss into his skin that no one else but themselves will know of.

The whole meeting was a breeze. They were complimented on their bands by the various Ambassadors, pleased to find like minded people.

“Do your people believe in ‘the belonging’ as we do?” One of the representatives had asked as they sat down. Chris grinned as she had shrugged.

“In our own ways” they had both said in sync, fully unintentional. They turned to look at one another as the rest of the table laughed joyously.

“It’s clear to see you two make a fine pair” One of them had joked. Under other circumstances, they probably would have laughed too. But in the moment it felt so intimate, so warm, that the burning passion and affection under her skin flared again. He smiled at her, full of love. Made a show of looking her up and down in her seat with his eyes like she was in one of the skimpy vintage ‘outfits’ she had buried in her closet instead of her suddenly suffocating uniform. Affection crests within her at how much pure fucking  _ love _ he has in his eyes, like no matter what she looks like or where they are she’s still the best thing he’s ever seen. 

She can feel herself beaming back at him as their quiet two seconds ends and he turns to the rest of the table with a confident, “Yes, we do”

Two hours later, and they’re walking back to the treeline. He takes her hand in his, swings it as they walk. Stops to pick a leaf off the ground and tuck it behind her ear, and it’s an old move but damn, does it make her smile. He’s about to flip open his communicator when she stops him. 

“My quarters?” she offers quietly. 

“As though both of our quarters aren’t just one big ‘our quarters’” he quips with a grin.

She smiles back at him soft. Traces the band around his neck.

“Can we-”

“Keep them on? For fucking sure”

They both laugh, and she presses her lips to his throat again. Moves to whisper in his ear.

“Is there a difference between having sex and making love, besides language?”

His soft inhale is music to her ears. He clasps her close, presses a kiss behind her own ear.

“Let’s find out”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm using This prompt for Kinktober, which was shown to me by the wonderful Killermanatee! Give them and their kinktober fics a heck of a lot of love, and feel free to leave me a kudos or comment if you enjoyed!


	24. Overstimulation (Number One/Pike/Boyce)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dang back at it again with that 'porn becomes feelings' thing. hey, at least there's actual porn in this one this time lmao. and lbr, emotional intimacy is the hardest kink of them all

This is another one of those things. The things she tries to keep to herself, tries to lock away for fear of judgement or vulnerability. The ones she can only admit to when she’s pushed to the edge and forced to beg for it. Up until that point, it’s a little game they all love to play.

In the present, Chris has Unas’ hands pinned to the bed as Phil presses his fingers back between her legs. Watches as Unas’ head thrashes, her hips twitch, her breath come in overworked pants. She’s already come twice. Had clung to his shoulders for dear life as he pinned her to the mattress and fucked her hard, fast; came screaming his name when his fingers grazed her clit. Phil had barely given her time to recover after Chris had pulled out and left her dripping. Had slid smoothly between her thighs and murmured a quiet “My turn, love” before he fucked her, slow and grinding and sweet in a way that had strangled cries twisting in her throat at every thrust. And here she is, dripping with them, covered in their love bites and handprints and  _ still _ pliant and willing under their hands.

Because these are some of the things she never says.

She never tells them how good it feels for her to be fucked out, made a mess,  _ ruined. _ Never explicitly told them that she likes riding the line of too much, feeling the bite of it coarse through her with each pull of pleasure they wring from her. Never tells them how much she  _ needs, _ sometimes, to just  _ let go.  _ To not have to be the cold and calculated ‘Number One’, but to simply be Una, the woman they love. She bites her lips on the words she cannot admit: clearly wants to so desperately but is held back by doubt.

Luckily, they’re  _ hers _ just like she is  _ theirs, _ and that means she doesn’t have to.

Beneath him, Una cries out, broken and blissed as Phil drives his fingers into her in devastating circles, sucks her clit with delicate kisses. She thrashes and cries and the whole time the very corners of her mouth begin to curl, just a tiny bit.

_ ‘There it is’ _

She doesn’t need to say a word. Just as they never have to speak their own secrets for her to know them. 

They can see the rapture on her face when they fuck her again and again, their come dripping from her and down their fingers. The small smile that tugs on her lips when she reaches the perfect mix of too much and just enough and she rides it like the waves of her next peak. They watch her whole form relax, sink lower and lower into the mattress and their arms as her mind goes blank and she becomes nothing but an object of their love and desire. Let’s herself bathe in the kisses, gentle and not so much, thrives with each remark, each bit of praise. 

She collapses back into the mattress, panting and spent. Makes a murmured noise as she nuzzles his side. Phil pulls back up, kissing along the path until he gets to her face. They shower her in kisses, in praise, and she smiles. Tiredly, and with her eyes closed, but still very much pleased.

“God Una,” he whispers between kisses. “You know how good you look like this? How fucking sexy you are?”

She blushes; something she only does for  _ them, _ and it’s a point of both pride and affection in him that he can make her do that.

“You’re drop dead gorgeous every day, don’t get me wrong honeybee,” Phil continues after him. “But like this? All fucked out and  _ filthy? _ Goddamn Una, you almost make me believe in those Greek myths of sirens and shit”

She only blushes harder as she laughs through her sudden fluster, and Chris takes it as the challenge it is. He cuddles her harder, presses a kiss behind her ear.

“Like we have Aphrodite right here in our humble, too-small bed”

“Mm, or at the very least an Amazon who decided men had a few things going for them”

Una speaks up from her giggles. “Mm, just a few things sometimes. The trade off of dumbassery and genius from the both of you is mostly worth it.”

_ “Mostly?” _ Chris teases. “Need I remind you that we have the power to tie you up and have our way with you?” A shiver runs through her.

“Or the fact that you’ve come three times screaming our names  _ just _ tonight, and we could keep you here as long as we wanted?”

Another shiver. 

“Oh but Phil, we would have to delay the best part of the process” Chris teases him. “The worldly delight of cramming three grown adults into a shower barely built for two and cleaning her up ourselves”

It  _ is _ his favorite part about this whole arrangement, all jokes aside. The warming of the water while Una examines herself in the mirror: running her fingers over their bites, admiring the mascara that had run long ago from overstimulated tears, the kissed away lipstick, wild hair that almost  _ certainly _ has some kind of spit or lube or come  _ somewhere _ in it. And oh, she’ll gripe about the mess, the tacky sensation on her inner thighs, the soreness she’ll feel tomorrow because they’re all  _ old _ now and sex leaves them sore. But she can’t fool them. Can’t hide the pleasure in her eyes when her fingers dip against the bruises. Can’t stop herself from relaxing into their hold in the shower, letting them clean her off and trusting they’ll be gentle.

Una shakes her head as best she can against them; pushes herself further into their arms, eyes still shut. “I don’t think I  _ could _ stand up, and even if I could, ‘m sleepy”

He looks over her shoulder to Phil and grins. Share a nod. Phil gets up and heads to the bathroom. Chris reaches to the bedside drawer, fumbles for a moment before he finds what he’s looking for. Pulls a wipe from the package and raises it to her face. As he’s gently wiping the mascara away, Phil returns with a cloth and some water.

They clean her off gentle and slow. Take care to avoid her clit when they get between her legs, only press a tiny bit on her bruises just to see her twitch. They’ll still have to shower, but it’s enough. She preens softly under their hands, basks in the attention and affection that is normally so hard for her to let herself enjoy. They finish. Drink a swig from the water cups that Phil brought back before settling back down in bed. Trade their goodnight kisses accordingly, softly. They push her between them and press close, trying to smother her in the heat and weight of them just how she likes on nights like this.

She sighs softly, pleased. Wraps a hand around Phil’s on her waist, snuggles her face into his chest.

“Love you both s’ much,” mumbled into his collarbone. And  _ those _ are a few of the words she  _ can _ say, does say, tells them every single day without fail, even when they’re at odds.

“Love you both too” Phil sighs, eyes sliding shut.

“Love the hell out of both of you” he chimes in. Settles himself in their arms even more, syncs his breath to theirs.

Close. Warm. Trust. Sleep.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm using This prompt for Kinktober, which was shown to me by the wonderful Killermanatee! Give them and their kinktober fics a heck of a lot of love, and feel free to leave me a kudos or comment if you enjoyed!


	25. Body Swap (Pike/Burnham)

The switch has been an adjustment and a half, even though they know it’s temporary.

New centers of gravity, new heights, new weights, new voices. Hell, the initial swap had them both on the floor wobbly-legged like two newborn deer trying to stand on shaky legs. 

‘Temporarily trading bodies to establish trust in them in an alien race for information on the red angel’ is still gonna be one hell of a report though.

They’ve been confined together: Captains quarters. No making Tilly uncomfortable in her own room, even as she argued against the ruling. Hell, she had forced herself through medical to run up to him and hold his hand post beam up, only for him to awkwardly wave her off to...himself? Michael? That was a time: seeing Tilly walk over even more awkwardly to himself and hold his bodys’ hand, Michael’s fondness for her on his own face.

_ ‘Probably just about as jarring as her seeing him walk and talk with her own usually impassive face’ _ he mused.  _ ‘At least out of everyone I could have switched with, it’s her’ _

It’s not like either of them haven’t seen each other nude before -far from it, in fact- and what with being confined together for the next thirty or so hours until they’re supposedly going to switch back…

Well, it would be a shame not to do a little bit of experimenting.

They learned fairly quickly that her own tricks wouldn’t work on him in her body. Her clit is  _ so fucking sensitive, _ which he knew from basic biology class but  _ holy shit. _ Even the slightest graze is a rush of  _ ‘so much too much fuck fuck’. _ She switched tactics soon after.

“On your back, pillow under your hips” she instructs, and god isn’t  _ that _ weird? To hear his own voice ordering himself around and yet hear nothing but Michael in it? The clipping way the words are uttered, the clear orders in a tone he himself rarely finds use for. He does as she asks. She moves over him, and crap, he had really forgotten how much  _ bigger _ he is compared to her. He feels tiny under her. He usually lets her be on top anyways but this?

His train of thought derails when she pushes her- his thighs open. Her thighs, but he gets to use them?

Fuck it,  _ his _ thighs. He’s using them, they’re his on a loan.

She pushes his thighs open, slots her way between them. One hand grabbing for the lube on the side of the bed.

“You’ll tell me if this is too much,” she says, not a question. Makes full barrel eye contact as she pours lube on the fingers of her right hand. He nods. “It shouldn’t be, if I know my body, but you’re not used to it, so who knows” she shrugs. Half grins. “You get a free trial of a uterus, so you’ll have to tell me what you initial reactions are”

“I’ll be sure to file a report with you documenting my findings” he quips dryly. “So far the memo consists of ‘Holy shit clit sensitive’, ‘I owe my Number One even more respect now considering how she gets off’ and an excerpt from a memoir I will write one day: ‘How the  _ fuck _ do so many men think getting women off is impossible? The clitoris is Right There’”

She bursts out laughing. He will never, ever get tired of that laugh, even if it sounds so strange because it’s in his own voice. She shakes her head fondly at him.

“All astute observations. As well as a fantastic thesis question for said memoir” she nods to him. “Now if you’ll stop making me laugh so hard, I can give you a few more talking points for your newfound dissertation topic”

She puts her hand on his thigh, slowly slides it up towards the apex of his thighs. Her hand is broad -impossibly so- on his slim leg. When her fingertips graze at his opening, he expects to feel… something, lust maybe. Instead a sudden pang of worry hits him, insecurity, a little bit of want for something he doesn’t know but his new body seems to.

“Hey” Michael says softly. 

He looks back up to her. Her eyes are impossibly warm.

“It’s not gonna hurt” she says slowly. “It shouldn’t, and-” she trails, fingers moving up the folds and sending a rush of anticipation and low level arousal. Raises her hands to eye level. They’re slick, and he feels a blush on his cheeks. “Judging by how open to the idea you seem to be, in addition to the lube, it won’t”

He takes a steadying breath. “I know, and. I mean, it’s not like I haven’t had sex before-”

“But this  _ is _ the first time you’re on the receiving end”

“Um,” is all he can manage to get out. His blush deepens. Her brow raises

“First time on the receiving end, by a woman?” she tries again.

“O for Two, Michael” he admits through an embarrassed laugh.

She makes a considering face before breaking out into a grin. “You’ll have to fill me in on that later. Or I could just proposition your First Officer in exchange for it” Her fingers dance around his opening, teasingly.

“God, the idea of the two of you in the same room is a terrifying thought” he gripes, head falling back. Her pointer finger just barely dips in, before pulling back out and circling around it. “I would never survive”

“Mm. I just think you have a Type when it comes to women, and are too afraid to admit it” she teases. Her finger dips in again, just a little further. Her thumb comes up to rest on the folds under his clit, rubbing soft circles into it. Heat pools at the base of his spine as his breath shifts deeper. “What do you imagine we would do to you?”

“Kill me” he manages to gasp as her pointer finger sinks deeper. God, it feels so much bigger than when he’s fingered himself in the past. Hisses softly through his teeth as it pulls back out, as the thumb rolls another lazy circle. “God, I-”

“I like to think we would at least get to know one another before we played with you” she muses.

God, is that a mental image. The Amazon that Una is, bending down to meet her lips to Michaels, or maybe she would lift Michael up by her thighs and get Michael’s legs around her hips as they kissed

God, she could pick  _ him _ up right now. She and Una both could. The thought sends an unexpected thrill through him.

“Manhandle me” he says without thinking. Blushes once he’s realized what he said, turns away-

Michael’s hand suddenly leaves from between his legs. Grabs his thighs and  _ hoists. _ He yelps as he’s suddenly flipped onto his stomach, no time to catch himself or recover before his hips are being grabbed and yanked back to press into her again. Her finger pushes back in, slow and steady as his hands are helpless but to fist at the sheets, whimper and shake on unstable elbows.

“Like that?” she purrs into his ear. “All too easy, even in my own body.” She kisses behind his ear. Her left hand covers his. “If you wanted to play this way, you should have said so”

He shivers. She trails kisses as her finger fucks into him. 

“Now,” she whispers. “I want you to touch yourself like I was a few seconds ago, okay? Don’t just do what I like in my body; this is about you.”

He manages to nod. Releases a hand from fisting the sheets to push it shakily between his thighs. Skims his clit and whimpers at the contact, trails fingers through the folds just behind it and presses under the tip. One cautious, pressed circle has him gasping for breath.

“Just like that” she praises. Kisses behind his ear. “Can I push a second in?”

He’s nodding before he even registers it.  _ “Yeah” _ comes from his throat, breathy and quiet. 

She laughs just a bit. Pulls her fingers back and presses two fingers together. Fuck, it’s  _ good. _ A stretch, but the slight burn of it feels so good. His circles speed as a low noise catches in his throat. His breath is shaking. Fuck,  _ he’s _ shaking.

Her fingers push in to the hilt. She pulls back, watching his every move. Her eyes are on him and he can  _ feel _ it and it only makes the need in him pulse harder.

“We should do this again later” she muses. “I can think of at least one toy I have that would make you scream”

Fuck, isn’t  _ that _ a thought.

“You’d have to get Tilly to bring it” he manages to gasp. “And do you really want t-  _ fuck!” _

Her fingers suddenly  _ curl _ and they drill  _ right  _ into where it makes Michael scream, and fuck, he  _ gets it now. _ His whole spine is lit up with the pulse of white hot arousal and a full body twitch wracks through him. He’s gasping. Can’t catch his breath. The fingers lighten up, but don’t move away.

“I think she would be more than understanding” Michael muses, calm as anything, as though she  _ didn’t _ just nearly wreck him with one curl of her fingers. “And yes,” she purrs as she stoops low again to press kisses down his trembling back. “That  _ does _ feel like that when you fuck me”

God, the thought of fucking her now, of knowing intimately well what he’s doing to her, it bowls into him hard. Fuck, he’s never gonna be able to have sex the same way again.

“You’re lucky,” she continues. “Well,  _ I’m _ lucky. Not everyone gets that from that. And I can only get it with a little bit of… shall we say...” her fingers curl again, and he makes a whimper he didn’t know he was capable of. “...extra help” she finishes with a smile he can  _ hear. _

“Please Michael” he gasps. “I just-”

“I know” she says simply. “Touch yourself”

His fingers follow the order before his brain even processes it. Rough, fast circles just under the head of his clit that have his thighs shaking. Her fingers pressing incessantly into him right where he needs it, curling in and pulling out in a steady rhythm that has him gasping and panting. She pushes harder, faster, matches his hands speed and fuck he’s spinning he’s shaking begging pulsing higher and higher fuck  _ fuck fuck! _

His head tosses back with a shout as it all comes crashing down. He’s pulsing around her hand, his whole body bucking back into her as his orgasm hits deep, strong and steady and it’s nothing like how it is in his own body but it is so, so good. He crashes into the mattress as her fingers fuck him through it and god, it feels like it goes on for-fucking-ever. His spine feels like it’s molten, head blank, body trembling.

Eventually, he can catch his breath. Her fingers pull out of him and his own hand drops back down to the mattress. He lays there, simply breathes. Her hand strokes his back as he recovers.

“Holy shit” he manages. She laughs.

“Welcome to the wonderful world of ‘XX Anatomy’” she quips dryly. 

“I gotta give like, every person with a uterus that I’ve ever slept with a medal” he muses. “Or an orgasm. Maybe both”

“Mm. A vibrator is typically a good way to hit both of those” she responds back without missing a beat. 

He snorts. Rolls over onto his back to look at her. She’s smiling down at him with humor in her eyes. Just what he loves to see. Leans up and kisses her, hand on her face.

“So,” he drawls when he pulls away. “Want me to return the favor?”

She smiles, lets out a huff of breath with a shake of her head. “Good luck with that” she warns. “I test drove a thrust while you were occupied, and I have to say, compared to what I’m used to, this is a bit of a downgrade,” she says. A quirk of her lips reads almost apologetically as she gestures vaguely to her half hard dick.

“Well, then it’s a good thing I know my body as well as you do yours” he fires back. Rolls them over so she’s the one laying on the bed. He shoves her legs up just a bit. Reaches back over to the discarded lube from earlier. Rolls a few drops onto the tips of his thumbs and first two fingers.

“The clitoris has something akin to eight thousand nerve endings alone I doubt-”

“Yes it does,” he cuts her off gently. “But it  _ also _ only has one  _ kind _ of nerve supplying it.” He reaches down between her spread legs. Finds the space just in front of her rim and presses a thumb into it, firm, rolling circles into it. 

She gasps, and her thighs shake. One leg twitches up even higher as the circles press harder. He chuckles under his breath.

“One kind of nerve to the clitoris” he repeats slowly. First two fingers roll around her rim as his thumb strokes again and again. Watches as her dick twitches with interest.  _ “Two _ kinds to the prostate.” He leans over her, presses a kiss to her lips. Mumbles against her,

“There are merists to both forms. And, in the interest of science, I think it’s only right we explore both of them. Maybe you can tell me more about what you said earlier along the way? About how you’d like to get to know my Number One a bit better?”

“Mm. But in the interest of gathering data, this would require a repeat performance. Perhaps the introduction of... other variables?”

He nods solemnly. “We do what we must for the good of scientific progress.”

She laughs breathlessly into his lips.

“I fucking  _ love _ our jobs”

He can’t help but laugh with her.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm using This prompt for Kinktober, which was shown to me by the wonderful Killermanatee! Give them and their kinktober fics a heck of a lot of love, and feel free to leave me a kudos or comment if you enjoyed!


	26. Lingerie/Exibitionism (L'Rell/Cornwell)

Had you told her on the coronation day of her promotion to Admiralty that she would one day get fucked over a table by the leader of the Klingons in front of her entire cabinet, for the good of the Federation no less, she would have laughed for the entirety of the Ceremony. Or dropped her badge and said ‘Ok, thanks but no thanks’ and promptly left the room. Which, she’s glad she didn’t because this is the  _ best sex she’s had in ages. _

L’Rell knows her and her body well enough by now that she knows just how to play the way she likes. Rough, hard, dirty. The crowd of twenty or so surrounding them jeer and roar in approval at every hard thrust, every pull of hair and slap to her ass. Cheer as she scrapes her fingers down L’Rells’ arms, her back, her scalp.

Another  _ fantastic _ thing about her new Ambassador status to the Klingons: They don’t demand her submission, her quiet, her political politeness. She fights back, and they grin at the challenge like it’s a game they play. They scream  _ with _ her. They rejoice in her casting aside the careful control she maintains and thrive in the breaking of chains.

When she walked to the doorway to this room earlier, a guard had stopped her. Smirked down at her and asked her if she was afraid, if she would scream for them, if her pride could handle being pinned to the ritual table.

She had bared her teeth in a grin to match his. Stepped into his space. 

“You should hope your Chancellor can pull one from me. And  _ no: _ the only thing I  _ feel _ is annoyed that you would stand in between myself and that room. Did you plan to stop me? Or,” she had added, a swing to her hips as she pushed even closer, unafraid of the blade in his arms. 

“-do you just want a taste, seeing as  _ you’re  _ stuck out here for the whole show, instead of inside where the  _ real _ action is?”

He had laughed then, a booming crack of a noise, sharp as a whip. Nodded her in and stepped aside. She had lowered the zipper of her jacket, just enough for him to see the lace under it. Just a taste.

In the moment, L’Rell makes a purring noise against her neck as she pushes the head of her strap on in her again. Her fingers curl at the edges of the stone ritual table, layered in a cloth to at least soften it a bit for her soft human skin. How thoughtful. She’s still going to be covered in bruises when she leaves here. The crowd jeers as her head rolls back in the blissful overstimulation. L’Rell bites her neck, leans in close to her ear.

“It is not too much for you, Admiral, I hope” she purrs. A statement, but she can see the loophole in it. Her way out, offered once more.

“If it’s not too much soon,” she pants back, thrusting back against her hips. “-then you’re not doing it right”

L’Rell laughs into her ear. Gives her another rough thrust that pulls a whimper from her throat and smacks her hip bones into the stone under her. Screams something in Klingon that, while she doesn’t have her translator on, can yearn from her shaky grasp of Klingon is something to the effect of  _ “The Federation slut wants more!” _

Granted, L’Rell doesn’t call her a slut. But fuck, she almost  _ wants _ to be.

She’s bent over a ritual table, splayed out nearly naked and exposed to L’Rell and her entire cabinet of officials. Her lingerie had been shoved to the side long ago for L’Rell to fuck her, but god, she w _ ants. _ Wants to grab her spare uniform that she packed and put it back on just so the entire cabinet can come up and rip it off her. Wants the whole room to see herself and L’Rell outside of the ritual when they battle and wrestle and kiss and bite so aggressively that her temporary quarters are almost always half destroyed by the time they even get down and dirty. Wants to be forced to her knees to put her mouth on L’Rell while the whole room watches and wishes she was on her knees for them instead. Wants to know how it would feel to be passed around them, felt up and kissed and exposed, but only L’Rell would be allowed to truly fuck her, truly claim her. Wants to know if they would grovel and beg their Chancellor for a chance with the Chancellors favorite toy-

L’Rells hand wraps around her waist to dive between her legs and roll her clit under hard circles and she’s  _ gone. _

She comes for what must be the third time of the night. Makes no attempt to hide her scream, to mask her face. The room erupts into yells of entertainment. Blood wine and other drinks slosh and spill as they raise their drinks and chug and gesture at her. A few splashes hit her, stick in her hair and hit her skin, and it only makes the waves she’s riding hit sweeter, sink deeper. She is not the Admiral in this room, here and now. The Chancellors toy, the Federation slut, the bitch who has the room captivated as she stretches across the table, that is what she is, and that is all she has to be.

She catches her breath as L’Rell pulls out. Bites another bruise into her neck.

“Is your limit here?” asked simply, quietly over the cheers.

She swallows. Grins through her gasps. Shakes her head.

“The ritual isn’t over yet, and if you think this is all I got, you picked the wrong bitch for the job”

L’Rell tosses her head back in a loud laugh as she flips her over. Unhooks the toy around her waist and tosses it before she hops on the table herself. The room explodes once more into applause as she settles herself on Kats’ abdomen. Only get louder when Kat promptly flips them and shimmies her way down between L’Rells’ legs. The Chancellor grins down at her as her thighs close around Kats’ ears.

“No, Ambassador” she croons. “I picked  _ exactly _ the right bitch for the job”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm using This prompt for Kinktober, which was shown to me by the wonderful Killermanatee! Give them and their kinktober fics a heck of a lot of love, and feel free to leave me a kudos or comment if you enjoyed!


	27. Phone Sex/Sexting (Georgiou/Ash)

“Remind me again why you’re instructing me on how to fix this instead of you climbing in here and doing it yourself?”

“Because team work makes the dream work, and I’m almost a hundred percent certain that even if I crammed my shoulders in there, my ass  _ definitely _ won’t fit in after it” Ash quips back over the comm link without a beat. God help her, she can  _ hear _ his grin. 

She huffs. “The design of men’s bodies is riddled with flaws” the fuse in her hand sparks, and she swears, jumping back and nearly smacking her head into three different bullshit electronic pieces in the tube with her. God, fuck these stupid tunnels, this universe, the fact that she has to weasel around in here like a fucking ship rat-

Ash laughs, even as concern laces his voice. “You ok?”

“Stupid fucking diodes” she grits through her teeth. “Why can’t Leland fix his own damn ship?”

“Ah,” Ash muses. She can hear him lean back in his chair, can practically  _ see _ him raising a pointer finger to make his teasing quips. “Because that would make him appear like he cares. Besides, guy is built like a shitbrickhouse: he couldn’t get past the shoulder blades in there even _ if _ you managed to peel that leather jacket off him.”

A laugh startles out of her chest. “I doubt it isn’t fused into his skin. Do you think if you stroked the buttons going down the pocket, he would feel it?”

“He probably fantasizes about someone ‘tugging his zipper’ if you know what I mean” Ash manages slyly with barely contained humor. She’s grinning, and is suddenly infinitely glad that he can’t see her, even if he is funny. She can’t have him know that.

“Everyone on this damn ship is so attached to their armor. Believe me I know, but even for  _ me _ all of the mare ridiculous.” Her hands fiddle more with the diodes and wires as she patches the most recent electric breakdown. “At least in my universe, leather was meant to be taken off at some point. We at least spoke straightforward when we wanted things.”

“Oh? Ash responds humorously. “And you were in the habit of letting down your guard once that leather was off, I’m sure.”

“Of course not!” she chides him, half paying attention as she spots one of the loose components that had led her down here in the first place. “You remove your leather as a power play. If you can’t take down your partner without aid of a weapon under your clothes, you don’t deserve to live through the attack.”

“Was fighting just  _ foreplay _ to you guys?” Ash asks. “Because here, if you want to sleep with somebody you have to be at least a little more... tactful. Seduction is a game and you have to learn to play nice” 

She scoffs. Flips the glowing transformer in her hand as she swaps them out. Digs her left hand further into the machinery. “Not everyone  _ likes _ nice. If I wanted to sleep with you, I would just-”

She stops herself from finishing the sentence.  _ ‘Pin you down’  _ is caught between her lips like a knife. She’s used to being on top, to pinning others like a conquest.

But she knows Ash. Knows at least a tiny bit of what he has seen. He is not something to be conquered. In her universe, power is a game, but at least all the players consent to play. In both universes, it seems, lines in their mirrored sands occasionally align.

“You would just…?” Ash prompts.

She shakes her head out of it. Plan B it is.

“I would just ask if you wanted to play” she shrugs simply. Not a lie, either. “And then of course, see if you were up to the challenge” she purrs.

Ash takes her bait willfully. “Oh? And how would you go about seeing that?” he teases. “Give me a physical? A quiz? ‘How well do you know your Emperor’ perhaps?”

“Of sorts” she drawls. Pushes a diode into its proper housing with a small and satisfying ‘click’. “I would see if you could pin me down, or at the very least had the balls to try”

He laughs, startled at her bluntness. Or maybe just humored at the simplicity of it. “I’ve seen you fight. I don’t think there’s a man, woman, or otherwise nonbinary person alive who could pin you down”

“Mm. That’s where character comes in.” Her left hand finds the second loose wire housing, and its with a victorious grin as she pulls it through to look it over. “You need to be my type: maybe humorous, good looking, know your place, be eager to please”

“Uh huh” Ash drones, a considering edge to it. “Why Emperor, I do believe I fit most of those qualities”

“Since when do you know your place?” she retorts as she rips out a fried chip. “And you’re not eager to please, you’re eager to give everyone within a ten foot radius more attitude than I thought possible”

He laughs again. She can hear the sounds of rustling as he shifts. “I said  _ most, _ not all. And giving you shit is how I  _ care.” _

“Hmph. You could care a little less about me, then” another rip, another spark, another flash of pain behind her eyes as she flinches away.

“Well then I’ll just have to disagree.” A retort. A pause. More shifting on the other side. “Permission to speak freely, sir,” he asks, a quieter edge.

She almost retorts back that she isn’t his superior, and even if she were, he’s never held back before. But holds herself back. He never asks permission. This is  _ something. _ This means  _ something. _

“Go ahead” she gives him, slow. Curious.

A breath. More shifting, possibly back? Her hand grips at the next fried component when he speaks again.

“You seem like the kind of woman who wants to be on top” he starts, low and considering. “And sorry to say, but I don’t think I want you riding me anytime soon. But maybe you can put up with being on bottom for a while if I sink on my knees for you? Get you off nice and slow until you’re screaming for me” 

Her hands pause on the switch board. Lips part. This is no longer a teasing  _ tête-à-tête: _ this was a  _ proposition. _

“And what makes you so special? Hm?” She asks, a test. 

“The fact that you haven’t threatened to kill me, for one” Ash fires back, humored. “For two, the fact that this has gone on long enough that we got here, distractions or no. And third,” he cuts himself off, waits a beat for dramatic effect. “-I still want to hear that ‘please’ from you”

She gives him credit; her body  _ is _ interested. And he  _ is _ funny, handsome, may not know his place but seems eager enough for her. And he  _ does _ like to play with her, is one of the few people who can keep up with her when she barks out orders and bites out witty remarks. And he gives it right back to her, unlike so many of the goody two shoes Federation officers or fearful agents they work with.

“And is that all?” she croons. Her fingers tug the components this way and that as she considers the proposition. “You want to get me off with your mouth once and you think I’ll fawn all over you? I can get that from the nearest seedy bar to us. Hell, I can get that from-”

“Anyone on this station with a sex drive and a brain” Ash finishes for her, voice low. “Yeah, you could. But not from  _ me. _ Not from a man who wants nothing more than to peel back all that leather and see what you look like under them. Not from a man who will go down on you until you’re using all that muscle and flexibility to push me away because it’s too much. And when you’re willing and I’m good and satisfied I’ll fuck you over whatever you want me to fuck you over”

She hums. Heat and interest light under her skin, pooling between her legs. Her fingers push two more pieces into the circuit board, start putting the thing back together. “Why make it all about me? Why not let me return the favor instead of fucking me over something?”

“Not trying to be rude, but ninety percent of my reasoning on you not blowing me is that unlike your mouth, your vagina can’t bite my dick off at the slightest provocation.”

She laughs, loud and pleased. “I take that as a compliment.” The last component clicks in place, and she sets about shoving it back in the wall to get the hell out of this damn tube. 

“That electrical patched?” he asks over the comm, presumably hearing her shuffles. 

“It only took eight hundred years longer than needed” she rolls her eyes. “I’ll be out within five minutes.” Another shove, and the unit is in. She puts her hands at the panel cover and closes it. Tightens the panel screws and latches.“I think I might like to see you put your money where your mouth is, when I’m no longer stuck in a mouse cage like this”

He takes a breath, releases it. “My quarters in an hour?”

“Mine in fourty-five,” she scoffs. “Unlike you, I’ve actually debugged my room. Leland will already have enough fun listening to this conversation, he doesn’t get more without more effort.”

Ash’s ensuing laugh and pleased ‘Yes sir’ sticks with her, long after the panel is closed and she begins the climb out of the tubes. All the way to her quarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm using This prompt for Kinktober, which was shown to me by the wonderful Killermanatee! Give them and their kinktober fics a heck of a lot of love, and feel free to leave me a kudos or comment if you enjoyed!


	28. Outdoor Sex (Owosekhun/Detmer)

“Sooo-”

“No”

Joann knows that tone, intimately well. The ‘I’m about to pull some bullshit, and you’re about to join me’ tone, slight curl of a mischievous smile that makes her look like a little elf up to no good. 

“Jooooo” Keyla whines back. Rolls herself into Joann’s side from where they’re laid out on the blanket in the grass. “You don’t even know what I was gonna say!”

“Yes I do!” she retorts back with a laugh. “You’re either gonna say ‘Let’s go run into that lake over there and hope no foreign night squid are in there ready to eat us’, or ‘hey baby girl let me whisper in your ear and pull you outta that uniform-” Keyla smacks her arm at the voice she does, but giggles all the same. “-Or you’re gonna suggest we strip naked and  _ then _ run into the lake and hope no deadly night squid eat us, and dammit Deets I do  _ not _ wanna die while trying to have sex!”

Keyla is  _ losing it _ laughing. Soft giggles high in her throat as her face scrunches up all cute, buries her head in Jo’s shoulder as she shakes. “Why night squid? Of all the deadly possible creatures?” she gasps through peals of laughter.

“Look,” she starts, but Keyla just keeps on laughing. Soon enough Joann falls with her into the descent into madness. Laughing by themselves on some random planet, all those in their landing party having already returned. It’s just the two of them until Saru calls them or they decide to ask for beam, and honestly, being this far from other people is kinda refreshing.

“Ok, but” Keyla manages once she’s calmed down from her giggle fit. “Consider this: We’re alone, and we scanned the water-”

“Deets, I’m not going for a midnight swim in water that we aren’t a hundred percent sure doesn’t have space sharks in it”

“Ok  _ fine,  _ no space sharks” Keyla agrees. “But we’re alone. The stars are shining, the blanket is soft. We can be as loud as we want.”

“Counterpoints love,” she begins, teasingly. “We’re alone until somebody accidentally smacks a combadge and suddenly either the bridge gets in on the show, or we get beamed up naked, the stars are  _ always _ shining, and the blanket could get bugs on it”

“Counter-counter point” Keyla challenges with a raised eyebrow and a grin. Oh no, she’s back on her bullshit, and Joann won’t stand a chance. “Our badges are on our jackets which we take off and we put the communicator on them a  _ safe _ distance away, the stars are  _ always _ lovely but we hardly ever see them from down here and  _ why not _ fuck under them, and if the blanket gets space bugs I’ll swat them away and be your knight in shining armor” she finishes with a grin. Her hands wrap around Joann’s middle as she crawls on top of her.

Fuck, she’s made some excellent points. Moreover, her hands are already at Keylas’ hips, and Keyla is already pulling off her jacket. Joann can just make out the silhouette of her lover against the backdrop of the night sky. Can see her hair, the narrow plain of shoulders that she  _ knows _ are soft as hell under that shirt. The plain of her sides as she pulls her shirt off and over her head, leaving her half naked in the starlight. Can just barely see the grin on her face as she watches Joann taking her in.

“Well then I only have one thing left to ask, flygirl” Joann finally answers back, body alight with interest. Her hands skate up Keyla’s sides, feeling the goosebumps and shivers through Keyla under her hands.

“Oh yeah?” Keyla asks on a sigh, leaning into the embrace. “And what’s that?”

Joann leans in close, presses her lips to Keylas’ ear and whispers. 

“You think you can beat me?”

Before Keyla can even say a word Joann is barrel rolling out from under her. Rips her jacket off along with her shirt as she sprints to the lake a few yards away. 

“You get in the lake with any clothes, you lose!” Joann screams over her shoulder as she unlatches her pants.

“You son of a FUCK!” Keyla shouts back. Joann can barely hear the sounds of Keyla flailing to her feet and rushing to the sand over the sound of her own laughter in her ears.

They make it to the water at the same time, where a nude and  _ very _ determined Keyla tackles her around the waist and they fall into the water with a thunderous splash. 

They show up back on the ship an hour and a half later, hair still dripping and clothes mysteriously mostly-dry. They’re too busy laughing to notice if anyone clocks it, if anyone cares.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm using This prompt for Kinktober, which was shown to me by the wonderful Killermanatee! Give them and their kinktober fics a heck of a lot of love, and feel free to leave me a kudos or comment if you enjoyed!


	29. Empathic/Psychic Connection (Spock/Pike/Number One)

The byproducts of his accidental surface level bond with his Captain are… unexpected.

He had used his telepathic abilities to wake his Captain from unconsciousness on an away mission a few weeks prior. Had felt the way his Captains mind awake under his prodding and urging, the way it clung to him much like his hands did to his form. His Captains mind was as strong and golden as his physical form and presence on the bridge, and the way his mind organized itself: Compassion and quick wit scaffolding memories, morals, and his critical thinking. It was loud and bright, sure. But… logical. Sound. And when the Captains eyes opened, focused in on his face and Spock could  _ hear  _ the instant realization of what was happening click in his head,

_ ‘Spock,’  _ unspoken, but not unsaid. A question pushed into his mind clumsily yet cautiously.

_ ‘Captain’, _ an answer returned in the same fashion. His Captains eyes had widened as his mind was a flare of questions and emotions. Wonder, shock, awe, pride. 

Trust.

Their bond had been surface level. He had anticipated that there would be a persistent lingering of the connection for a few days, perhaps a week; ensuing emotional tugs to follow for a few months, and then, nothing. He had not anticipated the strength of their bond to be so… determined. 

It seemed as though his Captains compassion for him, as it often did, endured beyond a simple break in contact.

It was only ever strong enough to truly affect Spock in certain conditions: when the ship was threatened, when a crew member was lost, when his Captain witnessed another crew member do something particularly noteworthy or commendable. Fear, anger, loss, pride. Concentrated so strongly by the combination of the other mans’ commendable focus and near-overwhelming depth of emotion that it could trump the physical distance and mental barriers Spock had to defend himself and managed to keep him off kilter. Strong emotion seemed to be a trigger of sorts. 

He had initially deemed all of it a matter of mild inconvenience. Had weighed the pros and cons of requesting a meeting with his Captain and explaining it, and decided against it. What were they to do? Fly to Vulcan just to separate a bond that would undoubtedly fade if not disappear entirely? Tell the Captain to suffocate his own emotions and processes and possibly damage himself for Spocks’ own comfort? No. The needs of himself did not outweigh his Captains comfort, and there was no need to broach the topic.

And then, the first incident occurred.

He had been meditating in his quarters when the first pulse hit, maybe a week since their bond had formed.

_ ‘Amusement coy warm wit fond’ _

_ ‘Ah,’ _ he had thought to himself.  _ ‘The Captain and Number One are at dinner together’. _ His Captain had a rather strong reaction when Number One was in his presence, in some form or another. Their bonds to one another were strong, so it was only logical for himself to get a bit of it second hand. It flared whenever the two would banter, and it was dinner time, when they took their meals together. Perfectly reasonable.

He settled back into his meditation.

_ ‘Warm warm coy fond fond want’ _

His eyes opened, wide. That was new: Want. Creature comfort of physical closeness, intimacy of the most basic nature. But perhaps it was not want in  _ that _ nature. Perhaps-

_ ‘Want want affection coy lust’ _

No. 

He reinforced his mental shielding, cheeks aflame and hating himself for his illogical human display even as no one else was there to see it. His Captain did not know their bond persisted, he deserved the decency of privacy. He forced himself to settle back into his meditation-

To no avail.

Soon the pulses of abstract feeling became more: more specific in sensation, in experience, in other  _ senses. _ Ghosts of sensation across his body. Still images, impressions burning behind his eyelids that only heightened his shame burning on his face. Bits of sound ringing in his ears like remnants of a dream. 

_ ‘Number One’s hands ghosting across his- across the Captains shoulders. Her laugh echoing in his ear, so unlike the last time he heard it: softer, coy, delighted. His Captains’ delight in knowing the way she blushed. Her nails scraping through the Captains’ hair as he sank lower and lower-’ _

He had tried to force it down, tried to focus back in on meditation, tried desperately to pull himself from it, but it was like trying not to succumb to the waves of a tidal storm. His body lit up to the suggestions, the sensations. His hands steepled into his own thighs as he tried to steel himself. This was wrong, this was an invasion of privacy. And even if he couldn’t help the fact that he received the second hand sensation he could control his own illogical reactions-

_ ‘Number One thrashing under the Captains’ ministrations. Her taste on the Captains’ tongue. The pride and uncharacteristic swell of bravado within his Captain at being able to reduce her to what she was now. She thrashed under him as her fingers tightened in his hair and her head tipped back as she gasped out for him’ _

_ ‘Chris, fuck Chris!’ _

His Vulcan half demanded he reinforce his shields, use his training to pull himself out, barked out a variety of demands that he knew better, needed to be better, needed to be professional. His human half was louder:  _ Howling _ with want, need. Calling out his own conflicted feelings regarding his commanding officers as proof of need. Begged his body to be fulfilled, for his mind to accept his needs, for release.

Chris’ pride swelled as Una hit her peak, and it was then that Spocks’ resolve crumbled.

Fingers slipped under his robe to his leaking slit. Fingered at the edge as he watched Unas’ head thrash against the pillow, as Chris’ tongue flicked and circled her as she trembled and gasped and writhed. Oh, what would it be like if Chris’ fingers were inside her? Would the sensation transpit to his own hand? Would he find it lacking?

His cock slid from the sheathe when Una dragged Chris up for a kiss, twitched when she licked her slick from his chin, leaked when she wrapped her legs around his waist and tugged Chris’ cock free from his pants.

Oh, and the emotional and mental  _ swell _ when he pushed into her. When the rush of affection and want and fulfillment and desire flared once more into a supernova for her when Chris fucked into her, when she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held on for dear life.

He came fast, humiliatingly fast. Had been panting on the floor long before Chris even came, and when he did it let him truly breathless, rolled onto his side on the floor with the cries of the both of them ringing in each ear. The fade had been fast, after that. A few glimpses at perfunctory kisses, Vague emotions. A pull away until his Captains presence was once again low and distant. He had cleaned up, ashamed and filthy. Surely, this would only be one incident. Surely, the bond would fade before it would happen again.

No such luck.

Multiple instances since had taken place, and it soon sat within Spock as a point of shameful excitement. He would feel the affection, the lust, the love. Know the ways they loved one another, loved the ways they brought one another to completion. Would feel his body burn along with theirs as he brought himself off to their own ecstasy in the night, and by morning could barely bring himself to look his commanders in the eyes. Shame wasn’t becoming of a Vulcan, especially not for something that half of those involved did not know of. He does not miss the way his Captain looks to him with concern when he declines lunch with them again and again, nor does he miss the way Number One pulls him aside on occasion to enquire if he is feeling well. They are concerned, he knows. 

But he is shameful. He waves their concerns, hides the truth under careful misdirect and omission. By day, he avoids their contact. By night, he sinks into their embrace.

Tonight, he lies in bed as the first pulses of a now familiar want hit his shields. Lowers his defenses even as his ears burn unseen in the dark. 

_ ‘His Captain is beneath Number One as she straddles him, towers over him like a goddess with inky black curls spilling out over her naked form’ _

Spock’s hands are at his slit even as Chris’ are sliding over Unas’ rounded hips. Feels the soft hairs of her abdomen under his own palms as though it were his own hands on her skin, and oh, does he hate himself for wishing it was. How his curiosity howls at the plains of both their bodies, how he wishes he knew the sensations from the both of them instead of just his Captain, how he wishes he could feel their forms for himself as they explored his own.

_ ‘Her breath leaves in one long, satisfied sigh as she sinks down on Chris’ cock. His breath comes in trembling shakes under her as she envelops him in a slick heat. She’s been wanting this, clearly, if the way she needed next to nothing before taking him is any indication and oh does that make both his and Chris’ bodies burn’ _

His fingers dip into the edges of his slick slit and his cock unfurls between the lips of it, dripping and desperate. He fingers at the head of it as the images unfurl behind his eyes.

_ ‘Una rides him, first slow with a rolling shake of her hips. They both hiss. Chris’ hands tighten at the contact around her waist, urging her on’ _

Spocks’ hand is just closing around the head when all of a sudden Una is moving,  _ fast. _

_ ‘She changes pace, setting a brutal rhythm of thrusts back against Chris as she takes him hard and fast, seemingly uncaring of anything but Chris’ own release. Her body bounces as she takes him over and over, scrapes her fingers down the length of his chest, fingers at his nipples before starting to talk’ _

_ “God Chris, next time I do this I’m gonna fuck you over the ready room desk” she pants as she slams herself down onto him. Chris throws is head back in a groan, breaking the visual on Una. His mind is a supernova already, the threat of release coming faster and faster as fantasy takes over his mind. “You want that? You want me to fuck you over your desk while everyone works ten feet away, none the fucking wiser?” An image flashes in Chris’ mind of the bridge crew, of Spock, at his station while a few feet away-’ _

_ ‘He’s going to come’,  _ Spock distantly realizes. _ ‘Chris is going to come before I do’ _ . The scenario has never played out before in the last few weeks. Would Spock come when Chris did?

He doesn’t get the chance to consider it further: Una’s voice demands his attention, as it does every other time he hears it.

_ “You think you could keep a straight face when I make you come across the desk again?” _

_ ‘Again?’  _ They had done it  _ Before? _ The thought pulses through Spock.

_ “I make you come and leave you all ruined and useless there, and stroll on out like nothing happened. You think you could clean yourself up in time before those doors opened back up? Think you could pay attention on the conn when Spock asks you a question and you have to answer all slick and ruined and sore on the conn? Hell, you think he’ll figure it out? I’ll bet he will” _

Chris’ climax hits him hard, abrupt, nearly sends him over with him in the process but  _ just _ manages to not overwhelm him. Chris  _ screams  _ with it, high and breathy and overstimulated as he comes hard. Pulses within Una as he shakes and shivers and whines with it. It’s nearly disconcerting, to experience an orgasm so intense and yet still be physically aching with the need to come, the want for release. His breathing comes in gasps as Chris recovers. His hand clamped around his own cock as he chases release on the edges of Chris’ fading orgasm. Feels a frustrated growl simmer in his throat just as Chris disengages..

_ ‘Chris flips Una onto her back. She smirks up at him for the briefest moments before Chris’ hand shoves between her legs. Feels his own come leaking from her and pushes his fingers inside. Her lashes flutter. He gathers both their slick on his fingers, latches his mouth to her pulse point and pulls his fingers free. Pushes them against her clit in hard and unforgiving circles and she whines so beautifully’ _

His breath is in sprinters gasps as his hand speeds around his cock as he loses himself in the sensations. Wills Chris’ fingers to go faster, harder. Wills his mouth to take the place of his fingers as he fucks back into her again just to make a mess of her like he -and now Spock- know she secretly  _ adores. _ Needs to see her come, feel her clenched around his fingers -not Chris’, but  _ his- _ and his mind screams for his release, begs for it when he knows nothing holds him from it besides himself.

_ ‘Chris’ hand speeds against her as his teeth scrape along her carotid, and her head tosses back as she wails his name-’ _

Spock  _ shatters,  _ finally. His own cries rip from his throat and echo in the empty room. Dimly hears the ghost of Chris’ voice cursing as Una comes against him, hips twitching with the waves and Spocks’ awareness fades in and out of reality and the mental connection as he succumbs to his release. He slumps, panting, as the waves begin to subside. The mental connection fades once more. He takes a minute, two, three, before shifting off the bed. Walks to the shower to clean himself off once more and get ready to sleep. In the morning, he will forget this ever happened once more. To himself, he will await the next rise in his awareness of the bond once more.

\--

Chris settles himself next to Una carefully as she catches her breath. Wipes his fingers on her thigh as she recovers, before absentmindedly stroking her skin. Her hip, the crease of her leg, the happy trail of hair near her naval, the soft peach fuzz of her belly. Una turns to look to him.

“Well?” She asks, one eyebrow raised. “It work?”

“Oh yeah” he confirms. “Bond’s still there”

She hums. Turns to prop her head up on an arm as she faces him.

“You get anything back this time? You know, after you came instead of before, like usual?”

He can’t help the snort that startles out of his chest. “Yeah,” he replies. “He came right when you did. Damn near bowled me over too. Thought I was gonna either die or come twice, depending on how merciful my body was feeling. Dunno how he put up with it all this time.”

She laughs, hair falling in her face in the process. “Well, at least you came out the other end alive.” she muses. “Was it really when I got off?”

“Yup” he confirms. “I also got a few… shall we say,  _ colorful suggestions  _ as to how I could get you there faster before you did. Fast learner”

She blushes even as she laughs more. “Kinda wanna call him on it, on all of this, just to hear what those were”

“You know you could just ask me, right? I’m still here, you know”

“Oh, I know” she teases back. “But I wanna hear about what it was like, coming twice. How it felt, what you got out of it”

His mouth opens in a retort, or maybe to launch into the description of the  _ absolutely bonkers _ sensation it was, when she pauses him with a raised finger.

“First, _ are we _ calling him on it, now that we know for sure?” she asks. “I have no qualms keeping a dirty little secret, because, you know, paybacks a bitch and all. But I don’t know if you can keep it from him forever, considering he’s in your head technically.”

A valid point. Still, his head shakes.

“Let’s give it a few more weeks to burn away. If it still hasn’t burned by then, we call him into a meeting in the Ready Room -make sure he can’t run away like he does after shift since he’s on duty- and drop the bomb then”

“And are we or are we not propositioning him when we do it?”

His brain screeches to a halt, and he hopes desperately that his hypothesis about how the bond works is right and he’s not being loud enough that Spock can hear them.

“Una”

“What?” She asks him with a shrug. “He already knows what we look like, already knows what we like. He’s probably  _ super _ repressed because  _ Vulcan _ -” Shrugs again, before looking into his eyes. “Chris, I trust him. A lot. Have since day one.” The elevator incident Spocks’ first day flashes in his mind. Unas’ retelling of the events. Spocks’ silence and quiet companionship to her since. Her hand wraps around his arm.

“Think about it, then get back to me ok?” she says quietly. 

He manages a nod.

“Good. Now tell me  _ everything” _ she says with a quirk of her lips. “If he gets to see me naked, i get to know everything I can about that little shit who took my plea for silence and advice about ‘keeping freaky to oneself’ a little too well”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm using This prompt for Kinktober, which was shown to me by the wonderful Killermanatee! Give them and their kinktober fics a heck of a lot of love, and feel free to leave me a kudos or comment if you enjoyed!


	30. Three or More-some (Tilly/Burnham/Pike)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You remember the drunken wonder trio from the Bryce/gen chapter? They're back and better than ever

This is arguably the best fucking party she’s ever been to, and that’s saying something considering her freshman year at the academy.

To her left, Michael hiccups as she laughs, head thrown back unabashed as her giggles ring in Tilly’s ears. Next to her, the Captaiin -sorry,  _ Chris, _ as he had insisted a while back earlier in the night- grins self satisfied at his joke landing. Or at the fact that Michael is tispy as hell. One of the two.

They’ve been practically glued to each others hips since Reno challenged Chris to that game of beer pong, and not one to sit idly by, she leapt to his aid when Reno called in backup of her own. Playing led to talking, led to banter, led to her finding out that apparently her Captain, in addition to being kind, patient, charming and hot as hell, is a  _ fantastic _ beer pong partner. She dragged him over to where Michael sat perched on a table watching their performance, and God knew those two needed like, maybe five seconds of quality time together before their banter kicked into high gear.

She wasn’t much for many men, and neither was Michael. Tilly knew it for certain. Still, Chris was no ordinary man.

He treated her roommate and partner in crime like she was a god among men -which she  _ is,  _ but still- and he made them both laugh. Drank with them and put up with Tillys’ shoving water into both of their hands as they curled up on a table together.

“Tilly, you  _ know _ I’ve been alive long enough to know how to not have a hangover, yes?” Chris teased her at one point, over the rim of his glass.

“And  _ you _ know that I don’t care and will keep shoving water into your face until you drink it, yes?” She bounced back with ease. He won’t give her shit for calling him on his, and she’s decided it’s one of her favorite qualities about him.

He grinned back at her as Michael giggled, before launching into another story of Tilly maybe-ever-so-slightly being a teeny-bit overprotective a Handful of times. She doesn’t miss the way his eyes light up while they tell him stories and prod him for some of his. Doesn’t miss the way Michael is leaning ever so slightly closer and closer to him as time ticks by. Doesn’t miss her own desire to be closer to him, or how when she experimentally sits next to him instead of Michael when she returns with more water the next round, he adjusts so he can lean back and see both of them. Not moving away, not closer either, but an invitation.

He’s giving the power to them, ever the gentleman. And oh, does it take hardly a glance between herself and Michael before they’re using that power to unanimously decide to press closer.

By the time they decide to leave, they’re practically on top of one another where they’re piled on the table they’re perched on. It’s with a perfectly innocent gesture of her head and a calculated tone to her voice when she turns to Chris with a sigh.

“It’s getting a little… loud in here, for my tastes. And I’m sure you wouldn’t mind walking with me and Michael to our quarters? You know,” she adds, a tilt and a quirk and a little batting of her eyes. “Give us all time to sober up, have a quieter place to talk some more?”

A ball served expertly to his side of the court. Michael dips her head approvingly at her with a grin, before looking to Chris. His face shifts through a range of emotion, and she tries not to laugh: command types do  _ not _ have as good poker faces as they think they do. Surprise, a double take of her expression and tone, consideration, him clocking the fact that she knows  _ exactly _ what she’s doing, amusement. He finally settles on something akin to  _ coy, _ and it sets of a spark somewhere low in her gut. Of all the faces she’s seen him wear, this is arguably the hottest one. He curls a finger to gesture herself and Michael in a bit closer.

“Well” he drawls, low voice barely audible over the music. “It would be my honor to escort you home safely”

A glorious fifteen minutes or so of tipsily stumbling back to their quarters, encountering other drunken crew trying to find their way home -including Gen and Ronnie, which will make for a  _ very _ interesting shift tomorrow- and they’re finally at their quarters. Dumping jackets at the desks, tossing shoes at the door, turning lights down. Piling onto Tillys’ bed as they lay back and watch a random movie they decided to project onto the ceiling. Chris in the middle, her and Michael on either side of him.

Twenty minutes in, and Michael glances at her over Chris’ shoulders. She nods back.

Tilly places her hand on his arm as she curls over and settles again right up next to him. He hardly reacts, but can see his eyes flicker down to look at her. On his other side, Michaels’ move is bolder, more direct: puts an entire arm over his midsection so her hand is on his chest as she presses herself closer to him. His head moves to look at Michael, before back to Tilly, eyes a little wide.

“Is- are you, do” he starts over and over. Gets frustrated and seems to try to reload, much to her humor. He takes a breath. “I was expecting-”

“-One of us to make a move, and the other to kick you both out to go to yours?” Tilly finishes for him.

“Or one of us to kick ourselves out to go bunk with someone else?” Michael offers with a small grin.

“...Something like that.” Chris concedes, halfway between humor and concern. “Is this something you two plan?”

“Only for you” Tilly admits with a shrug. 

That seems to throw him off his rhythm even more. “Me, specifically?” he asks dubiously. “Why me? Unless you just have a thing for salty old Captains who have moderate skills in beer pong”

She snorts, strokes his arm with one hand. “Why  _ not _ you? You’re handsome as hell, you treat us both real nice, you’ve got a fantastic sense of humor-”

“Your sense of justice is incredibly admirable, you have an infectious smile, you make everyone we care about feel safe” Michael adds on, pushing herself to sit up and look at him. Adds with a teasing smile: “And the salt and pepper is a  _ very _ good look for you”

“You’re chill enough to play beer pong with the crew, you’ve got a  _ great  _ ass,” Tilly cuts in. Jokingly makes a squeezing motion with her hands as she moves to straddle one of his legs. Watches as his eyes crinkle at the corners.

“And,” Michael adds, straddling the other. “You’re always putting others first, including with us earlier, letting us make the first move. And we appreciate it, we really do-”

“-And we  _ know  _ that that’s gotta translate at least a bit into the bedroom” she adds with a wink. He has the good grace to blush for her, and she instantly wants to see it again. “And believe us, we want to see what that’s like for ourselves. But,” and she turns to Michael. One final nail to drive this home.

“But,” Michael agrees with a nod and a quirk of her lips. “We would like to put  _ you _ first, this time. Take care of you like we want to. And believe me, if you want the specifics on that, tilly will be more than happy to offer our suggestions on that.” She finishes with a little grin her way, a fond smile that never ceases to make her heart warm.

Chris looks up at the two of them, processing. The sight is so endearing it takes everything in her not to lean down and kiss him just for that.

“Just, to be clear here: You two are propositioning me to have a threesome, because you want to get me off?” He says slowly, like he can’t quite believe it. 

Time to make him believe it.

“Oh, it’s more than that, Chris” she purrs. Leans down a bit closer, runs her fingers along the collar of his shirt and delights in his shiver. “We want to  _ take care of you. _ Lay you out, strip you down, fuck you like you deserve.”

“I’ve talked a bit with your Number One about you, about this” Michael cuts in as her hand scrapes down his chest. “We both have”

His head falls back, eyes wide. “Heaven help me,” he groans. “I’m not gonna live to see shift tomorrow, am I?”

“We won’t be killing you yet.” Michael laughs as her hand snakes its way up the hem of his shirt, slipping under to smooth her palms on his skin. “Not when Una has given us so many ideas on what we can do to treat you how you deserve. Assuming that is, this is all fine with you?”

He looks to Tilly, seeming to search her face for something, maybe hesitation that she knows damn well isn’t there. 

“We want this, Chris.” She soothes him. “It’s not the alcohol, and it’s not just for a one time thing unless you want it to be.”

“You-” he asks, cuts himself off. Looks between the two of them.

“We want  _ you,  _ Chris.” She nods. “We wanna bend you over the bed, mess up that perfect hairstyle, and leave a whole fuckton of bites and bruises all over you  _ because  _ we want you. Not ‘Captain Pike, Starfleet's Golden Man’, not even ‘The Captain’, but  _ you.  _ Chris. The guy who makes us laugh and tells us stories of how he almost got arrested with a current Admiral and his other three friends for accidentally stealing a jellyfish”

“The man who also looks at each of us like we personally just did something remarkable, even when said remarkable things were laughing so hard that Andorian gin came out of our noses” Michael adds with a self deprecating deadpan.

He laughs under them. “It was  _ endearing” _ he chides her. 

“It was  _ embarrassing.” _

“But that’s what makes things endearing” he counters.

“See? This is what we mean” Tilly adds with a laugh.  _ “This” _ . She pokes him in the chest. We want  _ you. _ We also are serious about fucking you, because you  _ are _ hot as hell and your ass  _ is _ really nice and I want to know it for myself, and  _ also _ Una  _ did _ tell us a few things and I haven’t stopped thinking about a few of them-”

“Please say yes or no before she stumbles her way into dirty talking” Michael cuts in with a fond smile. “One minute she’ll be rambling about your ass, the next she’ll have her hand down your pants and you’ll be fighting off coming too fast at the mental image she paints of using what’s under her bed on you”

Tilly watches his pupils dilate at the suggestion. Feels his already interested dick twitch against her thigh. He gives them both a once over.

“I take it you speak from experience?” 

“Oh yes” Michael confirms as Tilly lets herself grin. “She never lets me hear the end of it, either”

Chris’ throat bobs with a swallow. He nods. Turns his head to look at Tilly.

“I think I might like to join Michaels boat. Know what that feels like.” He admits lowly. “Moreover, I want to know what my Number One told you, so I know how much retribution to seek when I see her again…” he trails with a wink and a grin, and Tilly smacks his arm even as he pulls a laugh from her. He laughs with them, and when his eyes open again, they’re shining with the affection that she knows he has for them. “But yes. I would like very much to spend the night with the both of you. And more than just one night, if you would be so willing”

Michael beams at her, and her heart does a happy little flip as she sees it, as she watches her lean down to press her lips to Chris’ and cup his face. When they pull apart, he smiles at her, raises a hand to her face and she smiles back as she leans down and steals her own kiss. His lips are soft, and he still tastes like gin. She pulls away. Michael reels her in for her own kiss, and she’ll never tire of the addictive slide of her plush lips to her own, of the taste of her favorite lip balm, of the way Michael smiles at her when they pull apart. She turns back to Chris and tugs at his shirt teasingly.

“Well? We can’t fuck you into the mattress if you’ve still got your clothes on”

His laugh settles somewhere in her chest. 

“How the hell am I gonna handle one of you, let alone the both of you?” he asks rhetorically as he shimmies out of his shirt obediently. 

She’s about to fire back some witty response in the vein of ‘Your problem, not mine’ when Michael answers his rhetorical question for him, voice reduced to a purr that sends shivers down her spine.

“Well, you’ll just have to jump in and find out, won’t you?”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE'RE ALMOST THERE! I know it's the last day today, but school got crazy and life has been in the way, so the last day of kinktober is *actually* gonna be up tomorrow instead of tonight, but bear with me! Next and final chapter is probably gonna be a bit short as well, but that's because its actually a teaser/intro for what will likely be the next fix I upload (God only knows when that will be lol), so really it won't be short in the long run because Hey, New Fic! But that y'all for hanging out this long and can't wait to see y'all in the next and final installment!


	31. Sex Pollen/Three or Moresome (Spock/Number One/Pike)

It is only typical that of all the places for the pollen to reach first, the bridge is among them.

An hour ago, word had reached them from sickbay that pollen had leaked from a containment in the botany labs that had the potential to incapacitate most humanoid people aboard the ship, and thusly the bridge had placed itself on lockdown. Fifteen minutes later, and word reaches them that two recreation rooms and the cafeteria were compromised. Just moments ago, internal scans showed the bridge was potentially compromised. The Captain had promptly called for all eyes on him, voice steady and clear.

“We need this ship piloted to the nearest safe space to engage autopilot, and that’ll take max fifteen minutes. Medical says the pollen takes effect in twenty. There will be no doubts, no worries, no compromising of safety. I ask that everyone gives consent now when we’re all clear headed and sober, and anyone who can’t or otherwise won’t to lockdown in the ready room and set it to medical override until this whole thing blows over. We’re gonna need at least someone to be able to communicate with med staff and let them in if necessary. Am I clear?”

The chorus of ‘aye sir’ was a comfort in the chaos. 

“I’ll start us off: I consent to whatever may follow in what is arguably the strangest shift I’ll ever work” His Captain began with a quirk of his lips, and with that seemed to go just about all the tension in the room. Even in crisis, it seemed, he could diffuse tension with ease of humor.

Number One was next. “I consent as well.” said with all the dignity of a woman who by tone alone sounded as though she could have been filing reports, instead of consenting to public sex with her coworkers. One by one officers followed: Amin, Daniels, Terrania. Closer and closer to him, less and less time to make a decision. Vulcan propriety howled in his mind, urging him to volunteer as a Ready Room member. Doubt whispered in his mind of what they would think of him when the pollen took effect, of who he could possibly pair with or if anyone would even  _ want _ to pair with him, if he could ever recover his pride or dignity afterwards if he remained. 

Logic cut through the doubt; insistent on another course of action. From even further within him, his  _ human half _ added its own whispers to logics firm insistence. Of all the times for all parts of him to find peace-

“Lieutenant Spock”

His name startles him out of his thoughts. His Captain is looking at him. Number One is looking at him. The rest of the bridge is looking at him.

“I consent.” He manages simply, clearly. The surprise is written on their faces before they can smother it. He prepares his explanations: drafts his argument pertaining to his Vulcan half granting him more time than they will have, the logic of staying on the bridge for this reason. Before he can open his mouth again, however, Captain Pike nods to him in acceptance. Moves onto the next crewman.

The last of their officers gives their consent. Two volunteer to lockdown in the Ready Room and do as such. And with that, the timer began once more.

Ten minutes since their decision, and the ship is parked safely in orbit of a star. Coworkers slowly loosen the collars of their uniforms. 

Another five. His eyes keep wandering to his commanders. It is only logical to look towards one's leaders in times of uncertainty, and a certain amount of peace comes from looking to Number One in such times to see her cool and collected as always. He notes that while the crew continues to glance at one another, no one is willing to speak or maintain eye contact. He finds his own eyes averting when the Captain or Number One turn in his direction. Vulcans should not feel shame, and yet his ears burn.

Twenty three minutes, and the bridge has begun the descent into debauchery. Amin has left her post to settle in the lap of their communications officer. Two more helmsman are on the floor of the bridge. To his left, one crew member is tugging at their own clothes as their eyes scan the room. Spock finds his awareness failing. Eyes and ears captivated by the center of the bridge.

Moments ago, Number One had been slouching over her position, eyes closed and breath labored. All it took was a hand on her shoulder and a quiet rasp of her name from the Captain before Spock could  _ see _ her resolve break. 

_ “Una” _

Number One nodded, took a breath and with one determined stride out of her seat was suddenly settling herself into the Captains’ lap on the conn. Spock finds his fingers grasping at his console as he watches them: Number One pressing her lips to the Captains’, the way Captain Pikes’ hands pulled from the arms of the conn to rest on her waist, the movements of their heads against one another. He curses the edge of the seat and the way it obstructs the view, how he can only see a portion of their heads, feels his skin prickle and burn like it did on his own home planet during the milder seasons and-

Number One pulls from the kiss, her eyes opening. They lock to his.

There is a moment that Vulcans often experience in Starfleet Academy, so notorious that a term had been crafted just for it. The literal translation of it being  _ ‘ _ that singular instance wherein one understands what humans use the word ‘fuck’ for, when not relating to sexual activity’.

Number One maintains eye contact over the chair, even as she leans her head down, whispers something he cannot quite hear into the Captains’ ear.

_ ‘Fuck’ _

Captain Pikes’ head bobs once. She looks back up to him, and her eyes go half lidded. Stretches one hand over the conn to him, palm open. 

She doesn’t know the significance of the gesture to him, but he finds himself drawn from his seat anyhow, drawn to  _ her. _

He reaches the back of the conn, and she grabs the sleeve of his undershirt and drags him around to face them both. His Captains eyes are warm, his cheeks flushed, hair falling in his face. The thought crosses his mind, not for the first time, that Captain Pike is a handsome man, but this newfound disheveled appearance has his blood seeming to simmer under his skin.

‘Do Vulcans kiss, Spock?” Number One asks him consideringly. He catches a lowness to her voice he hasn’t heard since their time in the elevator nearly a year ago.

_ ‘Alright Ensign. I’ll show you’ _ A teasing tone, a challenge, a smile.

“Not in the human way, si-” 

“-No titles when I’m sitting in Chris’ lap, Spock. ‘Number One’and ‘Chris’ are fine.” she cuts him off, but the usual sharp bite to her voice is absent. In its place is seems to be a coy curiosity. He almost misses it.

Almost.

“Number One” he amends. “But there is an equivalent in the touching of the first two fingers to one another”

The Cap  _ -Chris- _ looks up at him, and any doubts his mind had howled to him earlier are suddenly silenced. He smiles up at Spock, eyes molten and . _ ..affectionate. _ His tone is gentle as he speaks,

“And how do  _ you _ kiss, Spock?” asked softly, lowered at least an octave from his normal pitch

Spock finds he almost has to ask him to repeat himself because he had been so transfixed on Chris’ lips. He blinks.

“I… can see merit to both. As a touch telepath, I get mental stimulation from both, and they have felt much the same in my experience” he stumbles. When were words harder to assemble? Has the pollen truly taken its effect this quickly, or is it just  _ them? _

Number Ones’ smile suddenly turns a bit more assured, perhaps even smug. “Is that your way of saying ‘I can feel when my partners enjoy me touching them either way, so it makes no difference’?”

His mouth opens before he can come up with a response. Proprietary forces him to tamp down the ‘yes’, but honesty forbids him from ‘no’ leaving his lips. His jaw clicks shut.

Chris and Number One turn to one another and  _ grin. _

“Well, that seems like a yes to me” Chris quips fondly. They turn back to him. Number One shifts on Chris’ lap so she perches on one leg rather than both.

“Spock?” she asks, her voice quiet, and yet somehow he can hear her crystal clear over the various sounds emanating from all around them. “How open are you to showing us how to kiss you how you like it?”

Blood rushes in his ears, pools at his belly, rises on his cheeks and ears even more than it already had. They  _ wanted him. _

Chris extends one hand to him, palm open, and Number One follows suit with one of her own. Chris nods to his leg.

“If you’re open to it,” he pitches. “We have room for one more, and we would very much like it to be you”

“We  _ only _ want you” Number One emphasizes. “Just you, Spock. Exactly as you are”

He looks to their hands, to Chris’ lap, searches his mind for any form of protest within him. Finds nothing.

He slips one of his hands into each of theirs and is hit with a rush of emotions from the both of them.

_ ‘Affection pride pride warm fond lust warm fond’, _ All for each other, for  _ him. _

He lets himself be pulled slowly into Chris’ lap, and if they see a smile tug at the corners of his lips, they say nothing. He hears no discontent when they see it, either: only another rush of  _ ‘fond fond warm lust’ _ as they mirror grins back to him.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT IS DONE. A day late, but fuck it, it's done. I did it. Thank you to everyone who left kudos or comments or simply read along for the ride! Special thanks to the peeps on discord with me who have listened to me scream all month about doing kinktober and still supported me. this is the longest thing I've Ever Written, and the first time I've ever attempted anything like this. Also shoutout to Killermanatee who got me to do this in the first place, they are to thank for every chapter you enjoyed, so leave them a nice comment or a kudos! Check out the other fics I've written if you so desire, and be on the lookout for the next pic which will probably be the more fleshed out version of what you just read! Hope you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed! I'm using this prompt, (also sorry for the long and untidy link, I'm on mobile and usually make the nicer ones on my laptop): https://vexy-sins.tumblr.com/post/187147986243/kinktober-2019-prompt-list  
Thanks to killermanatee for sharing the prompt list with me and encouraging me to join them in the pic making!


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